


The Before and After

by Pronunciation_Hermy_One



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Bromance, Drug Addiction, F/M, Fluff, Love, M/M, Male Slash, Mental Health Issues, Sarcasm, Slash, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pronunciation_Hermy_One/pseuds/Pronunciation_Hermy_One
Summary: A soul once bound for life can only be broken in death.





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).



> Heya! I'm a number of chapters ahead and intend to update weekly, so feel free to subscribe and enjoy, my friends!

The wooden floor is cold against his bare feet as he pads into the kitchen. He could light a fire. He should light a fire. It’s snowing, he realizes as he opens the door, but he hasn’t the will to do anything about such trivial discomforts.  

“ _Thought it would be warmer in hell.”_ The thought flits quickly through his mind before a wave of nausea hits him squarely in the gut, sending a jolt through him. His jaw aches with the need to empty an already vacant stomach; because, the voice speaking in his head is not his own, and any reminder adding to the layers of abandonment, betrayal and aching loneliness currently occupying his every thought are unendurable.

“You look like shit.”

He glances down, realizing he’d opened the door and hadn’t even registered there was a person standing there. Faintly in the far recesses of his mind it registers that such a potentially fatal error would never have happened before. “ _Before.”_ The voice echoes in his mind again and he turns, walking dazedly back through the kitchen, back toward the safety of his sheets.

His life was broken into these two halves now. Before. After. Happiness. Emptiness. Life. Failure. Love. Loss. He’d known loss, more than most, but not all, in their war-torn generation. Tiny fragments of his soul chipped away a piece at a time for as long as he could remember. A cold exterior, a shell to protect and insulate from a childhood of loss and instability that carried him through an adolescence tasked with meticulously and fastidiously creating a façade for all.

He hears him follow, but doesn’t care as he passes the table, the bedroom suddenly too far.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

His knees buckle and he reaches out to grab at the back of a chair as he winces, the sound piercing to his senses, his heart bucking wildly.

Silence. He just needs silence.

He opens his eyes again, straightening and taking another determined step toward the couch. If he can make it to the couch, he only needs to reach the blanket. If he can reach the blanket, he only needs to pull it over himself. His wand lays forgotten where it had been for weeks, and it occurs to him that the weight of carrying it might be less than the burden of the task of making it to the couch of his own accord.

One step. One more. Another makes three. The distance seems interminable, and he gasps as his heart races, panic rising as he realizes how far he has traveled. His gaze settles upon the mantle, and he realizes he’s alone in the photograph where two used to stand.

Before.

After.

His vision narrows as the walls close in, destination increasingly out of reach.

Together.

Alone.

He sinks to the carpet, crawling forward on his hands and knees as the futility of his journey threatens to overcome him.

It had seemed such a simple task. He’d been sound asleep. A knock at the door had broken through into the deepest vestiges of his mind as he slept. And out of habit he had walked to answer it. It was a simple task. It should have been a simple task. Habit. His legs carried him unbidden through the house until his mind had awoken and realized he’d left the sanctuary of their bed.

“ _Ours?”_ The voice came again, adding to the cacophony of footsteps and his own breathing that assault him.

He gasps, squeezing his eyes closed tightly against the onslaught.

“Mine.” He breathes, crawling forward another inch. There is no _ours_ anymore.

“Blaise.”

He stops completely, his head dropping to his knees as he curls inward on himself.

 _“Breathe”_ he thinks, over and over again, tapping his fingers against his temples.

Strong arms surround him, lifting him from the floor. A gasp echoes in his ear as he lays limp against the familiar shoulder. “Jesus Blaise, have you eaten a fucking thing in…”

A fire is lit now he realizes as he is carried past it toward the couch. He lays there, staring blankly at the wall.

“I’m calling Harry.” It isn’t a question, he knows, but a statement. Blaise wants to argue, but he doesn’t have the energy. The flames leap in the hearth, dancing with merriment or ominously, he can’t quite decide.

“Drink this.” A warm liquid dances down his throat, his head is foggy and his eyes hurt from the light. He shuts them tightly as the heat from the flames lick at his face.

“We’re in here!” Theodore shouts and Blaise knows Harry is there.

“Shh.” It is all he can manage, the quietest of chastisements, praying Theo won’t shout again. It makes him want to vomit and he shivers as his chest tightens.

“Christ, Nott. When did he last… anything?”

 _“Ah, Harry’s here.”_ The voice comes again and he squeezes his eyes shut against it, remembering when he’d last heard those words, a chuckle stifled against his ear while teeth nibbled and… a shiver makes its way down Blaise’s spine.

“Blaise, take another sip.”

His stomach flips threateningly at the foreign sensation of sustenance pressed against his lips and sliding down his throat.  When had he last eaten or drank?

“He really doesn’t look well.”

Why couldn’t they leave him alone? _He_ had.  But what hope did Blaise have against her? The image of them kissing in the corner flickers to the forefront of his mind again. She was wrapped in his arms, a tinkling laugh, all legs and long hair, and his smile… _His_ smile was a dagger through Blaise’s heart.

“I told you he was worried about him.”

Blaise’s thoughts tumble to a halt. Who was worried about him?

“If you’d told me it was this urgent I’d have come sooner.” Theo again.

“Well, I don’t think he told me right away, did he? Besides, I was gone with Ron for the last two days, as you well know—“

“I’m just saying, if he was really worried, he could have owled me directly. Or come to work. Or—“

“I’m sure he’s walking a fine line at home right now—“ Harry was growling under his breath.

Blaise wants to ask them to be quiet, to leave, but their harsh whispers continue, lapping at his brain as hot as the fire. He reaches a finger toward it, wanting to feel the burn of the flames on his skin. Maybe they could envelop him entirely.

“Oh certainly. Walking a fine line. For choices _he_ made. Listen, Potter—“

“Oh, it’s Potter now?”

Their voices weave in and out of his thoughts.

“Please.”

  “ _Such disdain,”_ comes  _his_ voice, again.

“I know you love the Weasleys, but while Bill is off playing house,” Blaise stiffens as his eyes widen momentarily before squeezing shut once again.

“He’s hardly playing house, Fleur is his _wife.”_

“And yet, he promised to love Blaise and _who_ is suffering now?”

“Please.” Blaise winces, bile rising in his throat as he rocks back and forth, shivering. Tears sting at his eyes as he counts his breaths.

 _“You are better than this.”_ He taps each word against his temple with the tips of his fingers.

In.

 _“You are stronger than this.”_ Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Out.

 _“You are nothing without him.”_ He stops tapping, the thought ringing all too true.

“She left him. He moved on. He moved on with Blaise. They made _promises,_ Potter. You were there. _We_ were there. Vows. To one another. Bonded. And he left him here. Broken.”

In.

 _“You are broken without him.”_ Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap.

Out.

 _“Worthless. Broken. Weak. Stupid. Nothing.”_ Shame and despair circle and wash over him once more.

_“Our bond supersedes,” Bill had pleaded with him. “I made it first. I… I did love her. I do love her. I love you. I—you don’t know how hard this is for me.”_

Blaise remembers staring at him, a numb sensation creeping into his brain and spreading throughout his body as Bill spoke.

 _“You’re leaving?”_ Blaise had been so confused and Bill had slammed his hand down on the table.

“ _Damn it, Blaise. Are you even listening to me? I have no choice.”_

Blaise blinks again, the memory piercing him as Harry and Theo’s voices mix with his thoughts.

“ _Did I do something? Can—can I do something? Bill, please. Please don’t do this.”_

 _“Please.”_  It was the last thing Blaise remembered saying as Bill had walked out the door, his hollow plea echoing through their home, resonating with the soft click of the front door as it closed behind his departing form.

“Please,” he whispers, crawling from the couch toward the flames, his hands and knees carrying him toward the warmth. He is shivering so hard. The voices won’t stop. Not Theo’s or Harry’s. Not Bill’s. He wants to be alone again. He is alone.

“Christ, Zabini!” Blaise feels Harry’s weight flatten him against the ground and realizes he was inches from the fire.

“Please.”

“Please _what?_ ” Spits Theo as he carries Blaise back toward his bedroom. “Please watch you burn to death? No thanks, Zabini.”

“Maybe we should take him to St. Mungo’s.”

“No.” Blaise doesn’t want to leave the house. He doesn’t want to leave. Bill will be back. He has to come back. They have taken vows.

 _“So did we.”_ The voice intrudes again.

“Yes, but she broke them. Ours matter now.”

“What is he mumbling about?” Theo is lowering him back to the safety of his sheets. _Their_ sheets. He rolls to the side, searching for Bill’s familiar scent.

“ _I broke ours.”_ Blaise doesn’t want to hear that.

“No.” He repeats again, burying his face into the pillow where Bill’s shoulder used to be.

“I don’t know, Theo. I told you earlier. Bill came into the office when Ron and I got back and asked me to check on Blaise. He said… he said he’d made a mistake, went to _their_ place with her for dinner, never expecting to see him. And, and he turned around, and there he was. And then, no one had seen him in a week and he was worried. He loves him, Theo. I know you don’t believe it but, Bill didn’t want this.”

 _“I want you.”_  Blaise remembers what _that_ sounded like, felt like, the first time Bill had said it. He had felt his armor chipping away long before then. Pieces of his soul cracking through his facade, a slow sunrise of light escaping almost undetectably as Bill had taken his hand, and then his heart.

_There he was, this ridiculous Weasley with his stupid earring and his outlandish long hair and his dumb freckles, just sitting there, lost and alone in the bar. The patch of white marking a recently missing wedding band; Blaise had cocked an eyebrow before sitting next to him._

_“Hullo.”_

_Blaise smirked as he took a sip of his drink. “I think you stumbled into the wrong bar, Weasley.”_

_Bill furrowed his brow, nervously running his hand through his hair. “I don’t think so... Zabini, it is, right?”_

_“Indeed. And, my apologies, then.” He offered, clinking his glass to Bill’s._

_“I think you’re friends with Nott, right?”_

_Blaise nodded. “Guilty as charged. And you with his Mr. Potter. Yes, I know who you are, Weasley.”_

_“It’s my first night. Harry said, well, he recommended it, and it took me a few weeks to well, you know, but--.”_

_“Well then, any friend of NottPott’s--”_

_Bill snorted, spraying liquid across the bar. “Sorry,” he gasped. “What did you just call them?”_

_Blaise chuckled. “Let me buy you a drink, Weasley.”_

_“Bill,” he had said, extending his hand._

_It was then, when he had grasped his hand, that Blaise had felt it: the electric thrum of him, of Bill, of them together. It was intoxicating, addicting, and he’d known right then everything would change._

Where had that confident man gone?

Before.

Before Bill, he was strong. Alone. By choice. Before Bill, he was content. Before Bill, Blaise had never thought about _after._

His mouth tastes of metal and cotton balls. Blaise hears coughing and his chin feels wet as he sinks deeper into the cool sheets.

“We can discuss the strength, validity and importance of broken and repaired vows and whose claim supersedes whose later. For now, I’d like to keep my best mate around long enough to punch your best mate’s brother in the fucking mouth, okay?”

Their voices register faintly, and Blaise wishes very much that they would stop talking.

_“Who’s talking, love?”_

Blaise swipes uncoordinatedly at the wet on his chin. There was that coughing again. He rolls over to better see Bill’s face, curling into his shoulder. “I’ve missed your voice.”

_“You haven’t been listening.”_

“I didn’t want to hear you say goodbye.” A tear escapes down his cheek as his fingers grasp tightly at the collar of Bill’s shirt.

_“I’m right here, love.”_

“You left me.” His chest burns, eyes close tightly as he tries to inhale Bill’s scent, burning it forever into the memory of him. Bill rolls them over, leaning onto Blaise’s chest, freckles framed in flaming red as his hair falls forward, tickling Blaise’s nose. It is hard to breathe, but he never wants Bill to move from there.

_“I promised to love you forever. I haven’t broken that promise.”_

Blaise shivers. “Should’ve been more specific.”

“He’s burning up.”

_“More specific than vowing to love you until death?”_

_“_ Only me. I don’t want to share you.”

Bill shakes his head, rolling to his side and pulling Blaise into his chest.

“Does she love you better than I can?”

_“I’m here with you. I want you.”_

_“_ Shit, Theo. That’s blood. Did he take something?”

Someone is pulling Blaise away from Bill and he hates it. “Stop,” he whispers, reaching for Bill. But, he is gone.

“Come back.” Blaise reaches blindly toward the pillow where Bill had just lain moments before. “Bill.”

_“I’m right over here. Why can’t you see me?”_

“He’s burning up.”

_“Open your eyes, Blaise.”_

“Bill?”

The coughing continues, tapping in his chest as the words repeat in his mind _“Why can’t you see me?”_ Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Come home.”

“Open your eyes, Blaise.”

“Too tired.” He slurs, the words taking every ounce of effort to string together.

“Blaise.”

He ignores the voice. It isn’t Bill’s, so he doesn’t want to hear it. It is hard to breathe without him. He was there, and then he was gone. His ears ring and everything feels wet: his cheeks, his chin, chest, ears, neck. Warm wet trickles, the sensation adding to the burden of stimuli overwhelming him.

He is flying again, spinning around in circles through the air.

“Hang on, Blaise.”

_“You’re sure you want to do this?” Bill chuckled into his ear, fingertips running up and down his spine._

_“It’s a bit late to tell everyone to piss off now, love. They’re all here.”_

_“True,” he laughed. “Except our officiant. Maybe he’s changed his mind for us?”_

_Blaise kicked him in the ankle and shook his head as he smirked, adjusting his robes._

_“I guess I still can’t believe you want to be with me.”_

_Blaise raised an eyebrow “I did ask you, if you recall.”_

_“Quite clearly. And you hadn’t been drinking, I recall. It was quite sincere and surprising.”_

_“My sincerity is unexpected?” Blaise teased, suddenly sitting down in the chair behind him as if mortally wounded._

_Bill shook his head, coming to kneel in front of him. “This is on you. You know for me— that because I was, you know, once before— it’s… different.” His palms were spread atop Blaise’s thigh, the weight of him pressing down, and Blaise’s heart beat faster. “The weight of the bond won’t be the same. Not really, anyway.”_

_“I’m aware.” Blaise shifted, sinking lower into the chair before pulling Bill closer to his lap, between his knees, until his chin rested on the top of Bill’s head._

_“It just feels… unfair.”_

_He resisted the urge to run his fingers through Bill’s hair, always preferring it wild and loose. “Oh Weasley. Ever the nobleman. Are you backing out?”_

_“Not on your life.” Bill shifted and teeth nibbled at his ear as a door in the distance slammed open._

_“Sorry! I’m here!” A winded voice drifted down the hall._

_“Ah, Harry’s here.” Bill’s breath tickled his ear as he swore._

_Bill stood as Blaise rose from the chair, hands clasped in united front as Harry strode into the room._

_“Sorry, Au-“_

_“Auror business, we know.”_

_He shifted awkwardly as Ron dashed past into the garden to find his seat. “Right. I’ll head in then.” He strode toward the patio, robes swishing behind him._

_Firm hands grabbed Blaise from behind as he turned to follow Ron and Harry. “I love you.”_

_Blaise smiled despite himself. “I want you,” he whispered as he turned, bringing their mouths centimeters apart “I trust you, Bill.”_

_“It’s forever. This could— it could kill you, because I can’t share equally, because I was already—”_

_“Again, my decision, love. His tongue traced the seam of Bill’s lips as he wrapped his hands behind the small of his back. Besides, it didn’t kill you.”_

_Bill groaned into his mouth as Blaise’s hands dropped lower. “That was different. I’m different. This is different magic. I didn’t leave. She did. And I found you. You were out there for me. How can you be so sure?”_

_“She didn’t die, either.” he shrugged. “Are you planning on leaving me, already?” He gasped in mock horror, pinching Bill and walking forward until they were pressed against the wall. The cold stone brushed his knuckles as Blaise’s hips pressed forward against Bill’s.. “Just quick, before…”_

_“You’re driving me crazy.” Bill was growling and the hairs at the back of Blaise’s neck stood up. He loved the sound of him. The feel, the scent: there was no going back for him. He’d die with or without Bill, now._

_And suddenly he was in the air, legs wrapped around Bill’s hips as they spun around and then he was against the wall._

_“No, Zabini. Everyone has already been waiting.”_

_“Please.” He knew he was whining as Bill’s hands gripped his arse, his fingers digging into his trousers. ._

_“After.” Blaise sighed at the finality of Bill’s tone as his legs came back to the ground._

_But why was he still spinning?_

“Bill.” Bright lights shine as he tries to open his eyes against the heaviness. He spins faster.

The crushing sensation that had been suffocating him for weeks is all encompassing. His heart fights urgently, his lungs struggling against the compression. It had been cold and terrifying, the alone, but now he welcomes it.

“Zabini!” It is Harry’s voice, again.

“You said for life.”

 _“I_ do _love you forever, Blaise.”_

Voices echo in the distance as he concedes defeat. It’s too much work to open his eyes.

“Make room, it’s Harry Potter!”

Cold hands are moving him through the air and then he’s lying somewhere new. He can feel their eyes and hands on him, but he doesn’t know who they are.

_“I miss you.”_

“It hurts. Without you. It hurts so much all the time.” The coughing continues and Blaise thinks his chest may explode.

“Help him. Please!”

Blaise can hear Theo in the distance. He is crying. He is yelling at someone Blaise cannot see. Why?

_“I never meant to hurt you.”_

“I can’t do it without you anymore.”

“What is he mumbling?” A new voice.

“I don’t— I don’t know. He’s been talking like this since we got to his house.”

_“For life, Blaise. We said for life. Don’t do anything stupid.”_

“It hurts.” He is drowning in the taste of metal dripping down his throat, so foreign, thick and impenetrable.

“I’m going to _kill_ him.” Theo is screaming far away.

Blaise hears nothing more.


	2. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter a day early: Happy Thanksgiving, lovelies!

****Each day seems longer than the last lately, and as he sinks into his office chair, Blaise can’t help but wonder what’s the point of it all. He’s slouched in his chair, feet propped upon his desk when a knock sounds at the door. Sighing heavily, he calls “Come in, Cecilia.”

Short skirt, plump lips and curves for days, Cecilia flounces into his office with bouncy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Zabini,” she ducks her head as she walks through the door.

“Blaise, please.” He’s annoyed at the interruption, but knows it isn’t her fault.   

“Sorry,” she corrects herself as she looks down at the stack of papers in her hands . “Blaise. Your mum called three times, I have a stack of purchase orders to be signed, Madame Malkin’s called, your new dress robes are ready, Mr. Nott owled… twice, you have an 8am council review tomorrow morning, and there are a half dozen event invitations--”.

“Decline them.”

“Your mother is throwing two of them.”

Blaise groans, rubbing his temples. “Fine, just those two. I suppose I’ll need a date.”

“And, another is Mr. Nott’s wedding?”

“Don’t decline that.” He sits up. _Shit, that is why Theo keeps owling._

“Who’s he marrying, anyway?”

Blaise’s eyes narrow. “That will be all, Cecilia.”

“And your dates?”

“The usual, please.”

“No chance you’ll take that handsome young gentleman from last week?”

“Certainly not.” Blaise shudders, imagining his mother’s reaction to any public display of his extra-curricular preferences. “That will be _all_ , Cecilia.”

She smiles, nodding her head on the way back to the door. “Shall I send him away then?”

Blaise pauses. “Who?”

“Your young gentleman from last week. He’s been sitting here at my desk for the last three hours waiting on you. He said he sent a few owls and you didn’t answer.”

“That _is_ the point of a one night stand,” Blaise murmurs.

“Well, I’d let him take me out, but he doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in any of my offerings.” Cecilia laughs. “I’ll send him on his way.”

Blaise stares at the pile of papers she sets on his desk and sees another owl, this time his mum’s, flying up past the window. The thought of another evening filled with meaningless work is unbearable. But the looming promise of another night alone in a giant empty house is equally unappealing.

He has been trying, really he has. Blaise had told Theo as much at lunch yesterday. It isn’t  that he is uninterested in a relationship, it’s that he is uninterested in people. Well, any of the people he had yet met, at least. Blaise was going to try, he promised Theo, to find someone that actually interests him for more than sex, and to have more than a simple one night stand.

He peeks through the crack in the door. Tall, dark hair, puppy dog eyes, built like a beater. If only Blaise could remember his name… Was it John? Or Samuel? He realizes he has no idea.

“On second thought,” he licks his lips. “Tell him to meet me at 8pm for dinner, and make us a reservation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, remind me of his name, will you?”

Tomorrow. He would start trying tomorrow.

 

The problem with tomorrow, Blaise groans to himself as the sunlight filters through a crack in the blinds, rousing him from sleep, is that it always comes, and generally sooner rather than later. He is hungover.

Rolling over, he is grabbing his wand to shut the curtains when his elbow connects with something firm. His eyes widen momentarily before he realizes there is someone in his bed. As his eyes adjust to the dim light, pale blond hair peeks out from under the comforter and he feels sicker than before. This was not the young gentleman from yesterday.

Blaise tries to delicately extricate himself from the sheets and realizes he should at least locate his pants. There are bottles strewn about the room and an ashtray overflowing… Ah, there is his wand, tucked between a cushion and the floor. Why on earth are the settee cushions all over the floor? He flicks his wrist and the curtains close. The blonde stranger stirs and he freezes lest the man awaken and he is forced to talk to him.

Pants… pants… he scans the room. Ah, a pair of blue silk pyjama bottoms is hanging off the edge of the door. _Those will do…_ He creeps quietly toward it just as a loud voice thunders from the living room.

“I’m coming in you complete and total arse, and you’d better have pants on this time!”

Blaise grabs the bottoms from the door, slips them on quickly and closes the door silently behind him. “Will you please shut up, Nott?”

“It’s 10 in the morning, you twat. Number one, why aren’t you at work? Number two, why have you been ignoring my owls for the last two days? Number three-- what the fuck is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That.” Theo is pointing behind him and Blaise realizes the stranger has emerged from the bedroom. Sans pants.

“Ah,” Blaise clears his throat, looking for a blanket or a pillow or-- good lord he was easy on the eyes-- anything, really, to toss him. “That is, um. You see, this is. Well, we were sleeping, until you barged in shouting like an uncivilised buffoon.”

Apparently, the man requires no modesty, because he is staring, naked, at Blaise with the most bemused of expressions.

“And, at any rate,”  Blaise continues, “You can’t just come barging in here whenever you like!”

“Alex,” the man holds out his hand to Theodore, winking at Blaise. “The name is Alex. You certainly knew it last night.”

“Meaningful relationship?” Theo’s eyebrow raises as he purses his lips at Blaise.

“Oh, come off it.”  Blaise grumbles, flopping into an armchair near the window.

The fire roars to life again and Harry walks through. “Oi, you found him! Where have you been, Zabini? You’re disturbing my soon to be--”

Theo claps a hand over his mouth and nods toward the naked blonde in the middle of the room.

“Oh, great, it’s a party.” Blaise is profoundly irritated.

“For fucks sake, who throws a stag party at 10am on a Thursday?” Harry inquires, cocking his head to the side. “I thought you hadn’t even had the chance to ask him to be your best man, yet.”

Alex is now the flustered one, staring at Harry with wide eyes. “Ha-- Har-- Po--”

“I haven’t.” Theo counters. “Apparently this was Blaise’s best man last night.”   

Blaise groans. “For fucks, sake.” He stands up and walks to the bureau, pulling a heavy bag of coins from within. “I’ve business to attend, _Alex_. We’re through here, thank you.”

Alex has the decency to look offended. “I’m not a--”

“I know,” Blaise interrupts him. “But your silence regarding Mr. Potter is appreciated.”

Alex nods shakily and, casting one final look at Harry, gathers his belongings and departs.

“Buying our privacy, Zabini?”

“Well, if your fiance wouldn’t show up uninvited…”

“If you would answer my messages, or calls or… I’m tired of talking to Cecilia.”

“Fair enough,” Blaise sighs, sinking back into the chair before he smirks and casts a sideways look at Theodore. “So, you want me to be your best man?”

“If you can manage to find time in your busy schedule for your best mate, of course.”

“I told Cecilia to send my response yesterday.”

“To the wedding! I want you to-- Jesus Blaise, must you make everything so difficult?”

Blaise laughs out loud before standing and walking over to Theo. “Theodore Nott, there is nothing I would rather do than stand next to you as you tie yourself to Harry Potter, purported savior of the wizarding world, for the rest of your long, insufferably _always present_ , life. Perhaps, it will give me a bit more freedom. Maybe one morning a week where you’re harassing Potter instead of barging into my house at the crack of dawn?”

“10am is hardly the crack of—“

But Theo is silenced as Blaise envelopes him in a hug, holding him a bit tighter than necessary as a wave of regret washes over him again.

Harry clears his throat. “Right then, that’s settled.”

“And who’s your best man then, Potter?” Blaise inquires as he pulls away from Theodore, stepping back to survey them.

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Blaise cuts him off. “Let me guess. Weasley?”

“Of course.”

"Don’t start.” Theo warns, taking Harry’s hand into his own.

“I just wonder how he feels about my Mr. Nott here, after you and his baby sister fell apart?”

“It’s been years. Ron’s fine. Ginny’s fine. I’m happy.”

“You break his heart, I break your nose. You know that, right, Potter?”

Harry grins, a stupid, lopsided smile that spreads straight to his eyes as he turns to stare at Theodore. “Never gonna happen, Zabini.”

Harry smiles, if possible, even bigger as Theo brushes the hair from his cheek. “At any rate. I’ve got to get back to work before they file a missing person report.”

“You haven’t been gone but an hour?” Theo scratches his head in confusion.

“Not on me, you dolt. For this idiot.” He inclines his head toward Zabini. “Don’t make me use ministry resources to track you down, Zabini.”

With a whoosh, Harry is gone.

“You really want to marry that?”

“For life,” Theo shrugs. “You missed a few meetings this morning, Cecilia said. Partly why I came looking for you. She says you’re coming in later these days.”

Blaise knows where this is headed and isn’t in the mood. “And staying later,” he counters. “I’m tired. Not the young man I once was, Nott. Surely you understand that.”

Blaise tosses him a wink as he passes through the bedroom and turns on the shower. He is pulling his pyjama bottoms off when he hears Theodore behind him.

“Alright, Nott. This is a bit much. I said I’d be your best man, but I draw the line at the showe—“

“Jesus, Zabini. How many bottles last night?” Theodore looks horrified as he holds up half a dozen potion bottles, and Blaise’s heart sinks because he knows there are many more littering the floor of his room.

“It wasn’t just last night. And I wasn’t alone.”

“I’m aware. But… there’s no way your house elf left these bottles strewn about. These have to be last night.”

“Maybe it wasn’t just uh, what’s his name—“

“Alex.”

“Yeah, Alex and I!”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

Blaise runs a hand over his face, dropping his pyjama bottoms as Theo turns around for a split second to give him some privacy. He steps into the warm steam of the shower and exhales deeply. Mornings are always the worst. His head pounds. His mouth feels like cotton.

“I don’t know.”

“How many people were here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Was it a party? Damn it, Blaise. Was it 5 or 25?”

“I don’t know!” Blaise shouts in response.

“You have enough here for a party of 50, your daft idiot!”

“I don’t remember anything! Just… just leave it be, Nott!”

“You’re lucky Harry didn’t see this, Blaise.” Theo’s voice is soft. “He’s head of the auror department, mate. You have to stop this. Slow down or, just… whatever.”

Blaise runs his hands over his face, the water bounces off his knuckles. “I’m sorry, Theo. I’m trying. I— I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

“Before Harry, you were all I had, Zabini. I need you to keep it together, okay?”

Blaise steps out of the shower, taking a towel from Theo. “Yeah. Understood, Nott. Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m there. I’m good.”

Theo stares at him for a moment, just a little too long and a little too intently, knowing exactly how to make the unflappable Blaise Zabini squirm.

“I promise, Theo. I’ve got it under control.”

Blaise hates lying to Theo, but he doesn’t know what else to say.


	3. Dark Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An untimely delay as real life interfered so unfortunately... I'll do my best to make certain it doesn't happen again. <3 It's a short one, but necessary. Enjoy!

 

There is an awful lot of silence this evening, and he’s not entirely certain it’s warranted, nor how to make it stop. His head is bowed, resting in his hands. Yelling would have been better; this oppressive quiet is heavy and makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand in anticipation.

She is pacing again, tutting occasionally as he hears her shutting cabinets just a _bit_ too loudly, or taking the stairs a _bit_ heavier than necessary. He’s not certain what he has done, or hasn’t done, but it is clear she is upset.

Bill opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off with a sharp look. This is absurd. They can’t possibly just continue to ignore one another. She hasn’t spoken to him outside of necessities and public pretense for months now.

He had replayed the events over and over in his mind, but still came to the same conclusion: He had felt it one day suddenly. He’d written home to let her know he wasn’t returning that weekend. Work was keeping him, but he’d return as soon as he could to visit. And then something was out of place. He couldn’t quite identify it, like something in his chest had gotten tighter and then disappeared. He’d seen a healer who said he was physically fine, but should think about taking a leave of absence from work. _Stress._

And so he had. Bill packed his things and headed straight back home. _Surprise_ would have been an accurate word to describe her reaction to his appearance on their doorstep. Except, the happiness he had expected wasn’t there.

Things were different; it was apparent immediately. He’d tried to fit into the every-day of her life, but there seemed to be little room. On the surface, she claimed to be happy he was back, but Bill could tell his presence was grating on her.

Each day the ache in his chest worsened a bit more. It had taken him awhile to place it, distance between them for so many years as he traveled the world for work had made it more difficult to discern. It wasn’t until two weeks after he had returned that he realized what the pain was. She had been sleeping with her back to him, again, and he was wide awake, staring at the back of her head, his mind racing. He had reached out to touch her. It was only a split second, but that spot in his heart had swelled, feeling immensely better, a connection reigniting; he realized it was her. And then she had startled awake, snapping his name and pulling away entirely as if she’d been burnt. The ache had returned immediately, sharper and more hollow than before.

Bill was wracked with guilt. He’d obviously been gone too long, too often. He was determined to make it up to her, but everything he tried seemed to make it worse. Tonight’s gross misjudgement had been a simple bouquet of flowers… immediately resulting in a stony silence for the last three hours.  

“Fleur, I--”

She shuts him down immediately without a glance.

“What do you mean, ‘no? ’We have to talk, love.” He is exasperated. “I don’t even know why you’re upset!”

She freezes, slowly turning to stare at him. He watches as she takes a deep, steadying breath. And then his world is upside down.

She doesn’t love him anymore. Can’t he feel it? It’s been too long, too much distance. No there isn’t anyone else. She’s been happy, alone, and the last time, for the hundredth time, when he didn’t return to visit, she realized she didn’t even miss him.

He’s reeling as she rants, putting the pieces together. Was it possible he was this unaware? His head is spinning as he tries to take it all in, unable to get a word in edgewise as she paces back and forth, her hands alternatively wringing together and flying through the air in frustration.

“Please,” he finally shouts. “I love you. We-- we have to… I want to fix this, Fleur.”

He blinks, standing rooted to the ground as she stares him in the eyes, her words ringing in his ears. She doesn’t love him anymore. She’s leaving.

“I’ll…” He has no idea how to respond. This is it? It’s over?  “No. Please.” He whispers, his brow furrowed as he stares at the ground near her feet. “I’ll leave. I’ll go. You stay.”

He walks to the door in silence, hoping she will tell him to stay. But she says nothing, and so he leaves, the door shutting with a soft click behind him.

Bill is numb as he stands in the cool night air. He should have taken a bag, but he couldn’t bear to be there a moment longer, the disappointment of her gaze weighing down on him. He isn’t sure where to go, he realizes as he begins walking down the path.

There’s no pain in his chest now. Just a dull, numb ache, as if something that was there for a long time is missing. It had been chipped away at so slowly, the shock of it was mostly unrealized. And now, there was a hole where whole had been.

He wanders for a while, wondering what to do next. The idea of heading to his mum’s sounds akin to torture. Charlie is posted out of the country with Gabe, and George is currently visiting him there. He could stay at George’s here, but he didn’t much feel like being alone. Ginny is in season and traveling, Ron meant Hermione, and Percy… he shook his head. Alone sounds better than Percy.

He still isn’t entirely certain where to go, but knows he needs a drink. With barely a second thought, Bill closes his eyes and apparates, one name in his mind.

A loud crack signals his arrival, his ears are met with a cacophony of noise as he lands unceremoniously on top of a dinner table: drinks are spilled, voices are raised, plates crash. It isn’t that Bill hadn’t thought ahead, it is more that he hadn’t considered Harry would be anywhere but home, alone.

"Bill?”

“Shit, sorry, Harry!”

“Why is there a Weasley on my table?” Nott is leaning back in his chair, arms folded as he stares disdainfully at Bill.

“Bill?” So much for avoiding Ron.

He stands quickly, hopping down from the table and brushing crumbs of mashed tart from his backside. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This was a mistake. I just needed to-- and I didn’t know where to go-- so I thought of Harry and…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

Theo cocks an eyebrow, wrapping an arm possessively around Harry’s shoulder. “And what precisely were you thinking about my Harry?”

Bill’s eyes widen in surprise. “No! Nothing like that. I just needed a place to sleep.”

“And your first thought when considering where to sleep is Harry?”

“No! He wasn’t my first thought. Or even the sleeping. I mean. Not anything other than sleeping either. Not together, anyway. Just-- nevermind. I’m sorry about your dinner. I’ll just be on my way.” Bill turns to leave when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Shut it, Nott.” Harry is glaring at Theo. “Bill, it’s fine. We were just finishing anyway. Is everything alright? You look dreadful, mate.”

Bill looks from side to side, chewing on his bottom lip as Theodore, Harry and Ron stare back at him. “Fleur left.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“When?”

“Well, really, I guess I left. But, she…” His chest throbs again where the dull ache perpetually stung. “She doesn’t love me anymore.” He speaks quickly, like pulling off a band-aid, and is surprised by how heavy the words feel when Fleur had been able to say it with such ease. Perhaps, it took practice.

“You need a place to stay.” It was Nott again.

“You could have come to my house?” Ron.

“He doesn’t want to see your wife.” Nott is amused.

“Well, not specifically, but--”

“There’s a spare room here; you’re welcome to stay with us.” Harry has an arm around his shoulder, and Bill feels a fraction of the man he’s been.

“There is?”

“Yes, Theo. Two, in fact.” Harry aims a kick at Theo as they pass him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Bill.”

“Yes, welcome.” Theo is rubbing his shin as he watches Harry lead Bill down the hallway.

“Well,” Bill hears Ron say, gathering his belongings and heading to the door. “Tell Harry the answer is yes, of course. I’m happy to be his best man.”

“Shit,” Bill curses again quietly. “I’m sorry, Harry. I had no idea. What a mess I’ve made.” His mouth is dry and his eyes are wet as he runs a hand across his face.

“Come on, Bill. I’m happy to have you here. _We_ are happy to have you here. I never had the opportunity to repay the favor all those years ago when you...” he trails off.

Bill sinks to the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking as the reality of today hits him. “I feel like such a failure, Harry. And, I don’t even know where or how it started.”

“What happened?” Harry’s eyes are bright behind his glasses as he wraps his arm around Bill’s shoulder.

“I don’t-- I don’t really know. She just doesn’t love me anymore. I’ve felt it for awhile now. But, I didn’t realize it, not really. There was just this emptiness where before it was full.” He is pointing to his chest. “I came home, and it just got worse. She just. She doesn’t love me, Harry.” Bill is crying now, eyes red as he wipes his nose furiously.

“I’m sure you can work it out, mate. Just give her a day or two.” Harry offers feebly. “Maybe send her an owl tonight?”

Bill nods, but he is doubtful. In his heart, he feels it is over.  

“Do you want a drink?”

Bill pauses, he’s been intent on a drink when he left home. No, not home any longer. He could feel it in his soul. It was Fleur’s now.

“I think I just want to sleep, Harry.”

Harry nods, standing slowly from the bed and walking toward the door. He casts a look back at Bill as he walks out the door. “I’m here Bill. It… it will all work out.”

Bill nods silently as the door closes behind Harry. He just wants to sleep. And so he does.


	4. Darker Nights

Interminable. If there is a single word to sum up Blaise’s life, he is fairly certain that is it.

Long days lead to longer nights and each elapses with increasingly larger gaps in time. He knows it isn’t the best plan, but the gaps are more bearable than the time itself.

Weekly dinner with his mum is one such occasion he’d rather survive than remember. An hour has gone by already, and it is decidedly more than any one man should have to endure. So, with a quick swallow he downs the bottle and stashes it back in his pocket. He can see the disapproval on Theo’s face in his mind’s eye and downs another for good measure.

The effect is immediate. Blaise’s shoulders relax as the familiar sensation of warmth and apathy fill him, and his mind is tantalizingly numb. He straightens his robes and walks lazily back to the dining room, prepared for another hour of interrogation.

“It took you long enough. Are you ill?”

She inspects a manicured fingernail with disdain as he takes his seat again across from her. Her hair tightly coiffed, she is foreboding and beautiful. He vividly recalls, even as a young child, an awareness of the respect and attention she commands of a room upon entering.

“My apologies, mother.”

“You’re avoiding my questions, again.”

“Certainly not,” he lies. “Ask away, mother.”

“Is there any other question?” She tuts. “A woman, Blaise. I need grandchildren!”

Blaise smiles and shakes his head, his gaze drifting absently to the mantle behind her. He hates that portrait hanging above it more than the rest. They’d sat for it the week before he left for Hogwarts the first time. It was the month after the death of her seventh husband. His mother had redecorated, again, while he was away. It had been expected. His only shock was that another husband hadn’t been waiting for him when he returned over the Christmas break.

“A strong pureblood to carry on our name, Blaise. Is it too much for an old witch to hope for?” Her voice is weary, but he knows it is all pretense to guilt him.

“Mum, I’ve told you. There is no such witch I—“

She cuts him off decisively, a sharp edge returning to her voice. He brings his attention back to her, a bland expression screwed tightly in place.

“Surely you can’t possibly still think it would ever be acceptable. You and one of your young men. We have a reputation to uphold, Blaise!”

“The world thinks nothing of this, mum. It’s only you—“ But she will hear none of it and cuts over him again.

“You will behave as every proper Zabini wizard before you. Do as you will in private. Carry on with whatever little dalliance tickles your fancy!”

 “A marriage built on lies?” He smirks.

She purses her lips. “We are not barbarians, Blaise. You are entitled to love and be attracted to whomever you wish. But there are expectations! Any decent pureblood woman is aware and knows better than—“

Blaise nods, his mind wandering as she rants. Theodore is a pureblood and no one cares who he loves. Harry certainly has a reputation to uphold, and while they kept their lives private, the public shock had more to do with Nott’s Slytherin roots than his anatomy.

“But before I die,” Ah, here we go, her impending departure from the realm of the living, Blaise thinks.

“I want to know my only son is settled with a nice young woman to carry on the Zabini name and traditions!”

“I suppose you have another such woman for me to meet, mother?”

“In fact, I do. And you’ll not want to simply throw this one away as you have all of the others.”

“Fine.” He just wants this dinner to end.

“Fine?”

“Yes. Fine. I’ll meet her.” Really, anything to make it end.

Mrs. Zabini‘s face is alight with unbridled joy as she launches into a monologue expounding upon the virtues of the young woman she intends him to wed.

But Blaise is no longer listening. He’s floating in the delicious goodness of apathy. His limbs are light and his mind is clear. The world is filled with brilliant color while sounds recede, a muffled buzzing barely intruding where it normally overpowers.

He wants to go out. He wants to be alive. He wants someone to make him feel. His stomach sinks for a moment when he hears Theo’s voice briefly in the far recesses of his mind, “meaningful relationship, Blaise...”

“—set it up for next week.”

Blaise starts, realizing she is still speaking.”Very good then, Mother.” He stands, walking around the table to kiss her on the cheek. Even like this, he can’t stand to stay at his mother’s house a moment longer.

“We haven’t had dessert!”

“I’m going to make an early night of it, but thank you.”

She grips his arm with surprising strength. “Are you certain you’re not ill?”

Blaise is surprised by the sincerity in her eyes.

“I do love you, Blaise.”

He kisses her on the cheek before walking to the floo. “I love you too, Mum.”

Contrary to his stated intentions, Blaise has no interest in retiring for the evening. That is the brilliance of the potion. Erase everything, welcome the emptiness, numb, and then fill it back up with better things. Preferably tall things that smelled of whiskey, tasted like a rainy summer afternoon and felt like a minute in heaven.

He steps out of the floo into his living room and glances in the mirror before apparating directly to his usual haunt.

Dark wooden walls and dim lights keep prying eyes at bay. He strides purposefully to his seat in the corner, ensconced in the shadows where he can see the comings and goings of the patrons, but remains unnoticed until he chooses to be.

He is barely sat when a drink appears in front of him. He nods in thanks as Jacob leans forward on the bar, bringing himself within earshot.

Jacob is delicious to look at; tall and fit, he has a ponytail and tattoos that stop people in the street. He’s used to attention, and has been vying for Blaise’s for years now. But Blaise likes it here and won’t give in. He knows it will end in flames and isn’t about to give up his corner seat to the best show in town… or Jacob.

“How was dinner with mum?”

“Left before dessert.” Blaise swallows, casting him a meaningful glance.

Jacob nods in understanding. “Looking to party tonight, Mr. Zabini?” He is practically purring as he says his name and Blaise can easily imagine him crying it out... elsewhere.

Smirking, Blaise tilts his head to the side and responds, “The party already started.”

Jacob chuckles, “Can I get you anything else then?”

Blaise hesitates, cracking a daring grin that doesn’t quite reach his vacant eyes . “I’m two deep already. Thank you, though.”

“Two?” Jacob pauses and Blaise is instantly annoyed, his eyes flashing. “I guess I have some catching up to do.” He corrects himself quickly.

Before venturing back to the other side of the bar, Jacob winks as he inclines his chin to the other end of the room where a devastatingly handsome man with raven black hair and the bluest eyes he’s ever seen is dancing on a table. He is barefoot and his shirt is untucked, unbuttoned to his navel.

Blaise licks his bottom lip and watches him for awhile. His jeans are slung low and as he rocks his hips back and forth, Blaise can imagine tasting him.

He beckons Jacob back over and nods in appreciation. “He’s new.”

“A couple of weeks now. You’ve been absent.”

Blaise ignores that statement and presses forward. “That, please.”

Jacob sighs in mock exasperation. “Not why I pointed him out… I’m a lot closer if you want to send me a drink. No risk of rejection, either.”

“What, and spoil this game we play, darling?” He winks. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s only a few moments before Jacob has sent a waitress to deliver his drink, and Blaise sees the man glancing in his direction. He lifts his glass just so, and mouths “cheers”.

The man climbs down from the table and saunters over toward him. Blaise shifts uncomfortably as he walks closer; he’s even more handsome up close and his stomach flips as the stranger puts his hand on Blaise’s knee.

“And to whom do I owe my gratitude?”

Blaise chuckles despite himself, oh he’s scrumptious.

“Blaise,” he offers, extending his hand. “And you?”

“Mick, it’s a pleasure.”

“I haven’t seen you here before, Mick.” Blaise begins, his eyes roaming freely over the man before him.

“I’m new to the area.” He shrugs.

“I enjoy watching you dance.”

The man smiles, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. “I enjoy dancing. I like the feel of the music, the heaviness of the bass as it flows through the table and… into me.” His words are intoxicating and Blaise slides further into the comfortable purr of emptiness in his head.

“Is that why you take off your shoes?”

“Yes.” He is grinning, no hint of shame, and Blaise can easily see himself falling into him, pushed up against a wall and screaming his name. “It fills me.”

The air feels heavy and perfumed with whiskey and sweat. Blaise is suddenly desperate for life as he reaches out to drain his drink and then take Mick’s hand.

“Show me.”

Mick grins and drags him forward to the table he’d been dancing on before. Pushing Blaise into the chair, he gets on his knees and slips off Blaise’s shoes.

The ground is sticky against his bare soles and Blaise momentarily regrets his decision. Disgusting.

But then Mick is pulling him onto the table and he is overwhelmed by sensations. He feels it, the rush of euphoria rising through his soles and into his head. His belly warms and his head spins as he realizes what he’s standing on… in. Combined with his double dose earlier, It’s almost too much. Almost, he thinks as strong hands grip him from behind. Mick is pulling him firmly against him, their hips grinding together as hands rise and fall on Blaise’s chest.

“Do you feel it?” Mick is growling in his ear and Blaise responds immediately, nodding his head as he bucks his hips backward.

And he does. The thrum in his head has been replaced by the steady rhythm of bass echoing through him. He feels the beat rising through his feet, into his chest and reverberating in his head. It’s intoxicating and Blaise is coming quickly undone as hands roam across his body, dipping down below his waist band, the tip of a finger grazing him. He responds automatically, pressing forward for more contact.

Mick is torturing him, and Blaise doesn’t like to wait. “Let’s go.” It is a command and Mick is happy to comply.

“I’m just down the street.”

Theo and Harry’s disappointed faces swim briefly to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck yeah.” Blaise’s voice is low and throaty when he speaks, his mind already thinking ahead to clothes strewn on the floor and the taste of bliss.

Nodding back toward Jacob, he allows himself to be pulled toward the door, scooping his shoes from the ground as they walk. In the distance he sees Jacob sigh in mock exasperation as he lifts an eyebrow and wiggles his fingers in farewell.

Blaise ducks his head as Mick wraps an arm around his shoulder and leads him out into the cool night air. The buzzing in his head disappears as they leave the sounds of the bar behind and head south toward Mick’s.

“Better things,” he murmurs a few minutes later, his eyes squeezed tightly. His back is pressed against a wall and he wraps his hands in Mick’s hair, thrusting in time.

Blaise wonders if this time, the emptiness will be gone.


	5. Lads Who Lunch

 

It’s been weeks and weeks, Harry. This isn’t healthy, love. He’s got to get out.”

“He’s sad, Theo. It’s a perfectly reasonable human emotion. You’d know this if you experienced any.”

Bill can hear them talking in the kitchen. But he doesn’t mind, because today is the day. It’s time to get out of bed, they’re right. 

He hears Theo chuckling. “Love, Potter. I feel love…”

Bill knows Harry is rolling his eyes and bends to tie his trainers, steeling himself as sadness coils in his stomach again. He’s leaving the bedroom today. They’re going to have lunch. He can do this. 

“—returned any of his owls?” 

“Not a word.” Harry sounds irritated, and they both freeze before making themselves look busy as he enters the room. 

“Morning, Bill!” Harry is overly cheerful as he folds the newspaper and stands to his feet. 

“Afternoon, Weasley.” Theo nods, handing him a cup of tea. 

“Are we still on for lunch today?”

“Absolutely!” Harry is positively bouncing on his heels with nervous energy. 

“Calm down, Potter, it’s just lunch.” Theo rolls his eyes. 

“Just the three of us, yeah?” The last thing Bill wants is a crowd. 

“Can easily be two.” Theo murmurs and casts Bill a sideways glance. 

“Oh,” Bill stammers, pulling on his ear as he looks from Harry to Theo. “We don’t have to, I mean, if it’s any trouble, we can—“

“Theo was being polite. He’s very excited for lunch.” Harry smiles at Bill, shooting Theodore a not so inconspicuous dirty look. “Aren’t you, Nott?”

“Delighted.” Theo drawls as he grabs his jacket and holds the door open for Bill and Harry to pass. “What’s better than a lunch with the lads?” Bill is fairly certain he hears Harry yelp quietly as he passes Theo, and he’s blushing intensely when they reach the street outside. 

The air is crisp and Bill realizes fall is settling.  _ Fantastic _ , he thinks.  _ The holidays are approaching. Wonderful.  _

He realizes Harry and Theo have been chatting as they walk, and attempts to make conversation. 

The walk is fine, the weather is fine. Lunch is fine, food is fine, even the company is fine. Everything is fine. Except for that empty spot tingling in his chest. 

Theodore has left them, something about checking on a friend. Bill and Harry are left on their own, walking silently through the park. 

“Hey, I want to go to the house.” Bill says suddenly.

“Yeah, all right.” Harry says. “We can head back there now.” 

“No. Not to your place. To, my… Fleur… that house. I just want to see that she’s… okay.” 

“D’ya want me to come with you? I’m off today. I don’t mind.”

“I think I’d appreciate that.” Bill swallows before they hold hands and apparate. 

His stomach is in knots as they approach the front gate. He wants to throw up, but Harry is staring at him expectantly. 

The house is dark as he lifts his hand to rap at the door. It feels so strange to knock before entering his own home. What was his home, anyway. Or really, had it been? They’d lived apart more often than not during their marriage. There was the war. And when life had settled he’d gone back to what he knew best: work. He cringes, realizing how grave a mistake this had been. His fault.

No one answers. 

“I don't think she’s there.”

“Or she’s ignoring me.” Bill whispers bitterly. 

But Harry’s wand is raised as he walks up the front steps. “I don’t think anyone has been here in awhile.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Bill is immediately alarmed. He has assumed Fleur didn’t return his messages because she didn’t want to speak to him. What if she had been hurt? 

Harry’s wand is raised as he enters the front door. The house is immaculate, just as Fleur always kept it. However, a thin layer of dust is settled on every surface. 

Bill runs from room to room, upstairs and into their bedroom, not daring to shout her name. Coming to a rest in front of the bed, there he sees it: a short note and her ring, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. It feels like a punch to the gut all over again as he sits down on the corner of the bed and picks it up to read. 

When Bill rejoins Harry downstairs, he is walking slowly, his hand gripping the bannister tightly. “She’s not here, Harry.”

“You look… what is it?”

“She’s gone. I can have the house. If I want it. I don’t think I do, though. Not now. Not, maybe not ever.”

“I’m sorry, Bill.”

“I want to go. Let’s go. Please.” He places one foot in front of another as he walks through the living room toward the front door. He cannot bring himself to look around the room as he forces himself to breathe. 

In. 

_ It’s over. It’s really over.  _

Out. 

His eyes sting as he stares at the front door. Two more steps until he reaches the threshold. His hand closes on the cold metal of the doorknob just as his knees give way. He hits the ground with a resounding thud. Bill feels Harry’s hand on his shoulder. He says nothing, just stands there as Bill cries. 

Minutes pass as Bill remains there on the ground. He cries. He is mourning. The loss of what he had long assumed to be his  _ forever _ is not new, but it feels raw and fresh and final. There is no one waiting at home for him. There is no one to share the holidays with, the future, the past, or even the present. Bill had been comfortable. The challenges were at work, there to revitalize and invigorate him, to find and create new discoveries. Home was comfortable, a place to reminisce about the past and relish in the familiar. But, perhaps it had been too comfortable. He was comfortable, but what of Fleur? He hadn’t appreciated what was in front of him, and it died. And now it was gone. She was gone. 

Bill takes three shuddering breaths, his hand reaching up to clasp Harry’s tightly behind him as he gets back to his feet. 

“Let’s get out of here, Harry.” 

Harry wraps his arm around Bill’s shoulder as they walk out the front door. “It’s going to be okay, Bill.” Harry whispers.

The door closes with a loud click behind them, echoing in the dusk of the evening’s setting sun.

“I know.” Bill nods as they walk down the path together, his eyes focused resolutely ahead. He would focus on the future now, and even the present, but it was time to put the past to rest. 

“Maybe... even better than okay.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Lunch again?”

“This one’s on you, Nott. Your friend. Your lunch. You just asked me to come along.”

**“** Right.” Theo runs a hand over his face as he sits up on the bed. “You look peaked. Maybe we should stay in.”

“I’m fine, Theo.”

“Don’t I look peaked?”

Harry comes to stand in front of him, pressing his lips to Theodore’s forehead. “No.”

Theo’s hands run up the back of Harry’s thighs coming to rest on his hips as he leans his forehead against his stomach. 

Blaise clears his throat from the doorway. “I’m still standing here, you realize this? If you don’t want to have lunch with me, you can just cancel, you prat.”

Theo is testy, and while Blaise is fairly certain he knows why, he’s not going to make it easy on him and admit to anything. 

“On second thought, maybe I’ll head back to work.” Harry murmurs as he stares between the two of them.

“What’re you in the mood for, Zabini?”

He shrugs. He isn’t particularly in the mood for food at all. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. Slightly hungover still, he makes certain to be at work on time at least, lest Theo come barging in again. Cecilia had walked into the office to remind him about lunch, finding him face down on his desk in a pile of paperwork. 

Blaise is tired.

“Chips?” 

“For lunch?”

Blaise shrugs again. It sounds easy, at least. 

They walk for a little while in silence, leaves crunching under their feet. Blaise can see his breath and steals a sideways glance at Theodore. Oh, he’s angry all right. He thinks Theo’s breath seems steamier than even his own, and he swallows. 

His pocket is heavy and he’d like nothing more than to down the contents of the bottle swinging within. But, he’s pretty sure Theodore would punch him squarely in the jaw for that. 

“Beer?” Theo inclines his head to a pub as they pass it.

Blaise nods. “Sounds great.”

They sit down and Blaise shifts awkwardly in his seat. He can feel the tension rolling off of Theo as they sit across from one another. 

“Rough morning at work?” He finally breaks the silence. 

Theo rolls his eyes. “I’m getting married, Blaise.”

Blaise blinks, caught off guard. “I’m… aware.”

“I’m. getting. married.”

Blaise furrows his brow as he stares at  Theodore. “I’ve already wished you congratulations, mate. Is this a shakedown for an extra gift?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“You needn’t be.”

“Look, Blaise. Before Harry there was you.”

Blaise is nonplussed. “I’m sorry. Are you about to reveal some long-held secret feelings for me, Nott?”

“Shut up, Zabini. I know exactly what you’re up to. I’ve been watching you circle this precipice for years now. I know what triggers you. I can see when you’re faking it and when you’re genuine. Cecilia may not be able to, Harry can’t, and though he thinks I have the emotional range of a… what is it Granger says? Teaspoon? I  _ know  _ you. I can tell when you’ve seen your mum or even just received an owl from her simply by the tenor of your voice. I know when you’re slipping, and you are. I  _ know you,  _ Blaise. And you know me.”

“I’ve already agreed to be your best man, so I’m not sure what this hard sell is about.” Blaise chuckles, but he knows Theodore sees right through it. 

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself Blaise. You deserve happiness. I don’t know why you won’t accept it.”

Blaise sighs heavily, taking a long drink of his beer before setting it back down on the table. “I haven’t found it, Nott. I don’t have a Harry, thank gods, by the way, he’s all yours. I’m a mess, Theo. I don’t even know if what I want exists. But when I find it, I will know. I’ll feel it. I haven’t yet… I just… haven’t. 

“I’d like you to be around to find it. And if you keep this up… Christ, Blaise. I’m worried you won’t even be around for the wedding next month.”

“Come off it, Theodore.” Blaise snaps. “I told you I would  _ try _ . I’m  _ trying _ .”

“Dates your mum sends you on with her latest pureblood witch of the month don’t count.”

“You want me to take them on second dates, then?”

“I want you to stop popping potions and and shagging everything that moves. I wouldn’t care even, if I didn’t see it slowly killing you. You’re poisoning yourself from the inside out, Blaise. I feel like….”

Blaise waits, the knot back in the pit of his stomach. He is torn between ire and guilt. What right did Theo have to make demands of him? What right did he have to care about his personal life?

And then again, he wars with himself. What right did he have to care about his best friend? Gratitude was probably a more appropriate reaction. 

“I feel like I’m watching you die. And it scares the shit out of me, mate.”

Now Blaise does feel guilty. “I’m… I’m sorry, Theo. I really am trying. It’s just-- I’m just…”

Theodore stares at him with raised eyebrows, waiting. 

“I don’t know. Lonely? Bored? Frustrated? You used to be there with me, in this space. And, I’m thrilled for you and Harry. Really, I am. But, I don’t have that. I don’t know if I ever will. I have a job that is nothing but headaches running my mother’s foundation. My mother… who, well, you know. And my best friend is marrying the savior of the wizarding world. It’s a bit of a hard act to follow.”

Theodore blinks. “You’re the best man for the savior of the wizarding world’s groom. I’m pretty sure that counts for something.”

Blaise snorts into his beer, shaking his head. 

“Don’t tell Harry I said that, by the way. The savior stuff. I tell him he just happened to be in the right place at the right time for all of that defeating the dark lord stuff. I can’t have him thinking I’m actually impressed by anything he’s done.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Blaise smirks, shaking his head. 

“Just give it a chance, will you? Maybe try meeting someone  _ not _ at the bar, yeah?” 

“Maybe.” Blaise is doubtful, but he knows this, whatever he’s currently doing, isn’t sustainable in the long run. He doesn’t actually enjoy it, but he’s not sure how to change, either. 

“--a double dose?”

Blaise stiffens, having only caught the tail end of Theodore’s statement. 

“Have you really gone to double?”

“Jacob,” Blaise growls, his eyes narrowing. 

“Is worried about you.” Theo snaps pointedly. “He’s quite convinced you’re his prince charming and much as I’d like to see you make it to my wedding, he doesn’t want you dying on his watch.”

“He had no right.”

“Are you daft? You do realize it’s still  _ my _ bar you’re drinking in?”

“You’re never even there.”

“It’s called excellent management, and Jacob is one of the best. He looks out for my business  _ and _ my patrons… especially my best friend.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t pout, Zabini, it’s not very becoming.”

“It was just the once.”

Theodore stares at him skeptically, but says nothing.

“I swear.” Blaise raises his hands in surrender. “It won’t happen again. Didn’t make any difference anyway. And I haven’t partied since then last week.”

Theodore nods, not taking the subject any further, and they finish lunch in relative camaraderie.

“Come around for dinner Friday?”

“Doesn’t Harry have his new pet around?”

“Ah, he’s a good egg.”

“No interest in Potter’s mopey pet project, thanks.”

Theodore laughs. “Really, he’s actually grown on me. Harry says he’s coming out the other side, these days. He’s even got a date tomorrow night, apparently.”

“Is your big day really only a month away now?” Blaise changes the subject. 

Theodore nods, downing the last of his beer and tossing a few coins onto the bar. “I really do love him, Blaise.” 

“Potter knows I’ll kill him if he hurts you, yeah?”

“Funny,” Theodore casts him a sideways smirk as they walk back outside. “He said the same thing about you.”


	6. Turning the Page

There really isn’t anything Bill can think of that’s less exciting than the idea of dinner with his parents this evening. Mum’s worried. Dad’s heartbroken that his marriage ended, and while he doesn’t say anything, Bill knows he’s disappointed. Arthur would do anything to keep Molly happy, and he doesn’t understand why Bill failed to do the same. 

He raps twice on the door before opening it and entering. He is greeted by Percy and realizes immediately he was wrong; dinner with his parents and Percy is worse. 

“Bill.” Percy wraps him in an awkward one armed hug, the side of his glasses digging into Bill’s cheek. “It’s satisfactory to see you. I see you are still without Fleur. I’m sure that continues to be a difficult transition. Best of luck.”

“Uh, thanks, Perce.” Bill is torn between amusement and sadness momentarily. “It’s been awhile now. I’m doing okay.”

“That’s odd. When a soul bond is severed… well, you should be suffering much more.”

Bill cocks his head to the side as he takes off his coat. “Um, well, it was a long time coming, I think.”

Percy shrugs and walks back to the kitchen. “You should be in worse pain,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Bill stares after him as Arthur rounds the corner. “Dad!”

“Bill!” Arthur holds him tightly before releasing him and stares behind him. “Still alone, eh?”

“Well, yes. Did you want me to bring someone?”

“You’re living with Harry and we haven’t seen him in ages,” Molly cries, rounding the corner as she wipes her hands on her apron. “Not that we don’t love you, dear.” 

Bill is momentarily confused. “Do you need to see him? I could floo and invite him.”

“No dear, that’s not necessary.”

“He’s pretty busy with the wedding,” Bill shrugs as he makes his way to the table. “It’s been a bit of a mad house around there, lately.”

Molly and Arthur exchange a glance Bill can’t quite place. “Yes, we’re very excited to be there for Harry.” Molly waves him off. “Tell us about you, dear.” 

“Back to work, getting settled. Not much to tell.” Bill shrugs because he knows what Molly is looking for. 

“No word from Fleur?” Percy interjects between bites as Molly glares at him across the table. 

“Uh, no Percy. I don’t imagine I’ll be hearing from her.” 

“Mum says you shouldn’t give up so soon,” Percy yelps as Molly kicks him underneath the table. 

“It’s been 6 months.” Bill sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“It was nothing,” Molly mumbles and changes the subject. “I meant to ask if you’d had the chance to see any of the young ladies I’ve sent your way?”

“Molly—” 

But Bill shakes his head, patting Arthur  on the hand. “It’s fine dad, she just wants me happy. The answer is yes, actually. With Harry’s encouragement, I have seen a number of your, er, suggestions.”

Percy snorts into his cup and Bill bites his lip to keep from laughing. 

In truth, Harry had encouraged Bill. He’d helped fend off Molly’s well meaning suitors, taken Bill out, introduced him to people. Their most recent conversation had left Bill with a funny feeling that Harry was right: he wasn’t looking in the right places. But, he wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile it all yet. 

“No one of interest, but it’s been keeping me busy, at the least, so thank you, mum.” 

“What’s wrong with them?” Molly demands as she refills Arthur’s glass. 

“Nothing,” Bill treads cautiously. “Lovely evenings, mum. But, just not quite what I’m looking for. No… spark.”

In truth, nothing had been particularly awful, but Bill couldn’t have been less interested. 

Melinda was too young by at least a decade. Primary interests: fashion, ice cream and the latest gossip. Gertrude had spent the evening talking about Harry and asking if Bill could introduce them. Astrid was… much older, and extremely self-involved. Their conversation had been focused on her appearance, and how lucky Bill was to find someone whose appearance “could even compare to that of his Veela ex-wife”. 

The last had been the most promising, a pureblood healer named Renata who was as preoccupied by work as Bill. This had seemed mildly appealing, until he discovered they were only out because of their mothers’ interference and Renata was not only  _ not _ looking for a companion, she had a partner her mum didn’t approve of and no interests in anything else. They’d remained in contact and friendly, a commonality of situation and promises to “stand in” for appearances when necessary. 

“—sent him with Astrid?” Percy wipes his eyes with mirth. “Mum I  _ told  _ you. Charlie has told you. We’ve literally all told you: Let him be. Bill’s been married for a decade, let him find his own way.”

“It’s only natural for a mother to worry about her children.” Molly is tutting and sighing around the kitchen as she clears the table and Bill makes his way into the living room to sit by the fire. 

“She sent me out with Astrid, too.” Percy sits down across from him in a squashy arm chair, lifting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Before Audrey.” 

Bill looks at Percy as if he’s never truly seen him before. He is awash with guilt as he stares at him. Could he have truly been this much of an arse for the last few years? Could he have been forever? He swallows and leans forward, his chin resting in his hands as he grasps with this burgeoning self awareness that keeps threatening to take him to his knees. 

“I’m, I’m so sorry, Perce. I don’t know if I ever told you that. Enough, anyway. I’m sorry about Audrey. I know it must be so difficult. And I wasn’t there for you, not properly. I don’t think I’ve been there for anyone properly.” 

Percy sits back and smiles at him, his eyes searching Bill’s before he nods once. “Thank you, Bill. You know, I have two beautiful daughters left now. It was… difficult. I loved her. But, I go on for them.”

“You must have been in so much pain. To lose her. The bond just…” Bill trails off. He’s been so thoughtless, not wanting to see Percy when it first happened. But, who could have understood more? Percy had loved and lost. He’d been gutted, his soul stripped and torn. 

“I know,” Percy falters.. “I know I don’t show things the way the rest of you do. I know I come across as stiff and unfeeling.”

“No,” Bill starts to say, but stops when Percy raises his eyebrow skeptically. 

“It did hurt, though. It hurt. It hurts. I, I really thought I’d die, Bill. If it weren’t for the children, I would have. I’ve never known such pain, such fear. Overwhelming hopelessness and loss, I had nothing left in me, just my girls.” 

“I’m so sorry, Percy.” Bill gets to his feet and walks over to Percy, pulling him into a tight hug. Percy resists for a moment before softening into his brother’s embrace. 

“You can understand.” Percy nods stiffly, pulling away and looking Bill in the eye. 

Bill hesitates. “It hurt. It hurts. But, I don’t… I don’t know if I felt it… feel it, the same way you do?” 

Percy studies him gravely. “You can love and not create a soul bond, Bill.”

“We were bonded, Perce.”

“Doesn’t matter if she’s not your soulmate.”

“I—” Bill pauses. “I don’t know.”

“You will. When you do. You’ll know.”

“Know what?” Bill jumps as Molly is suddenly at his elbow. 

“When it’s time to go home. I’ve got to get back to the girls, and Bill’s tired, mum.”

“Oh, but you’ve just arrived.” 

“Percy’s right, mum. I’m going to head out with him. Thank you for dinner though.” Bill leans forward to kiss her on the cheek and wraps his arms around Arthur, hugging him tightly. He envelops Percy fiercely and whispers “Thank you,” before they each head through the floo. 

When Bill lands upright back in the living room, he sees Harry sitting on the floor in front of the crackling fire surrounded by parchment and books. 

“Wedding?” Bill inquires as he makes his way over to Harry. 

“Work.” Harry pauses. “Kinda.”

Bill nods, studying Harry for a moment before speaking again. “Where’s Nott?”

Harry chuckles, “work.”

Bill blinks, “I didn’t think he did that.”

Harry pauses, puts his quill down and stares at Bill with a look of bemused sincerity. “He’s quite successful, you know. And an excellent delegator, but even he has to go into work and address things occasionally.”

“Honestly, Harry. I just assumed he was independently wealthy. What does he do?”

Harry shifts, bringing his knees up and laying his chin on top of them. “He owns things. Places. A few. A couple of pubs and a bar. Buildings.” 

Bill waits, wondering if Harry will expound, but he does not. 

“I don’t think Fleur was my soulmate.” Bill claps a hand over his mouth as the words tumble forth, wondering why he shared this. 

Harry nods. “Well, you’re alive and she didn’t die.” 

“Pardon?”

“You were married, it wasn’t a soul bond, so doesn’t matter anyway. But, it could have become one, if she were. It hurt when she left you, but, it didn’t kill you.” Harry pauses, but continues at Bill’s perplexed face. 

“You know, I’ve been living here as a wizard for the majority of my life now, but it’s not often I get to explain things to anyone else.” Harry chuckles. 

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’m extremely wise.” Harry looks indignant. 

“Hermione?”

Harry brings a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Weasley.”

“Nott.”

Harry laughs. “Yes. Well, The basics, but I researched the rest.”

“Why? How?”

“It’s old pureblood magic, but it was important to Theo.”

“More sentimental than I’d imagined.” Bill shakes his head. 

“He’s more lots of things than anyone knows. And he’d have never told me directly, but I figured it out.”

Before Bill can even ask, Harry holds up his hand and points to himself. “Auror.”

Bill laughs out loud. 

“At any rate, we’ll be soulbound.”

“But it can kill you? Why?”

“Lots of things can kill you, Bill.” Harry is bemused. “And, because I love him. He completes me. He’s the other half of me.”

“I loved Fleur.” 

“You did. But, she probably wasn’t your soul’s mate.” 

“Because I didn’t die.”

“Because you didn’t die. Hurting your own soul is… well, there’s very little magic that affects the soul, as we know. To take a vow and bond your soul is the deepest and purest of love. For her to stop loving you would be unimaginable pain.”

“It was agony!” Bill interrupts. “I’ve never felt such pain. I hid for the last how many months here in your house?” 

“Heartbreak. Grief. Change. You truly loved her… and change is awful. But, would you have given her that power over your soul, it would have most likely killed you to have it severed.” 

Bill is silent as he stares at Harry. “You really trust him that much?” 

“Completely.” Harry answers without hesitation. 

They sit in silence for a long while before Harry speaks again. “How were your mum and dad?”

“Oh, they say hullo. Mum’s still trying to play matchmaker.”

Harry snorts as he continues writing on the parchment which is now so long it trails into the kitchen. 

“Percy was there.”

“How is he?” 

“He seems well. Sad.” Bill remembers the sincerity in his eyes as they discussed Audrey. 

“Soulbond.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It nearly killed him when Audrey died.”

“Why didn’t it?” 

“She died. She didn’t leave him voluntarily.” Harry says it simply, as if it’s obvious. 

“Mum seems intent on me finding a new partner.”

“She worries about you.”

“I’m—“ Bill swallows. “I’m not sure I’m going to find what I’m looking for in her, uh, selections.”

Harry stops writing again, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Oh?” 

Bill shakes his head. “You know, before Fleur—“

“I know.”

Bill stops. “You know what?”

Harry laughs, “Oh, Bill. We thought you were the absolute coolest person we’d known, Ron and I. But there were rumors for years. Not that we cared. But, it gave me the confidence to, well, to know that it was more accepted here.”

Bill pauses, wanting to make sure they’re both discussing the same thing. “To love Nott?”

Harry smiles. “To love him. To spend my life loving him. I spent the first half of it fighting Voldemort. I didn’t have a choice. He chose me.  I wanted to choose, to be in control of the rest of my life. I chose Theo.”

“She was the first one I actually loved.”

“Well, we never discussed this of course, but I would imagine based on rumors you had more than enough experience.” Harry laughs, winking conspiratorially at Bill. 

“I… enjoyed life.” He smiles. “I never strayed once married, though.”

Harry nods and leans back on his elbows. “Integrity, Bill. Also uncommon.”

“I want that.”

Harry furrows his brow. “Want what?”

“My soulmate.”

“Ah, mate. It’s pretty rare. Hard to find, to be open to it, to know when you find it…” 

“I don’t think I’ll find it in mum’s lists.” 

“You won’t find it here in my living room either.” 

Bill laughs loudly “I really do appreciate you letting me stay here, Harry. I know it’s probably time for me to be on my way, soon.”

Harry is somber immediately. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Bill. I can never thank you enough for keeping us during the war. You offered safety and reprieve without hesitation, I can never repay you for that.”

“Harry. That was, without a doubt, all my honor. Fleur and I were both honored. Truly.”

“I leave to work and come home to find you sharing a fire with a Weasley? Dark days have arrived.” Theo drawls bemusedly behind them. 

“Leaving me mere weeks before our wedding, Nott?” 

Theo chuckles as he sinks to the floor beside Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. What’re you two clucking about in here?”

“Soulmates.”

“Bill’s ready to get back in the game.”

Theo smiles. “Good, Weasley.”

“I think he should go see Jacob.”

Harry speaks casually, but Bill sees Theo turn quickly to look at him before slowly looking back to Bill. “I’m not sure that’s his scene, love.” He exhales slowly. 

“Pretty sure Bill doesn’t have a set scene.”

And then Bill understands. “More like, I’ve played lots of scenes.”

Theo’s eyes narrow. “It’s probably not a great starting point, Harry.”

“He can handle it. Jacob can—“ 

“Jacob is not a nanny.”

“I don’t need a nanny.” Bill is bemused.”Cursebreaker, remember, Nott?”

Theodore stares at him for a long awhile. “Harry doesn’t even go there.”

“You don’t let me.” Harry pokes him in the ribs.

“Why would you want to? You found me.” Theo kisses the side of his temple and draws him closer. “That’s a place for people like… you know who.”

Harry scoffs and pulls away from Theo. “Come off it, Theodore.” 

“Fine.” Theo groans, reaching into his pocket and handing Bill a small, ecru business card. “Just ask for Jacob.”

Bill flips the card over and over in his fingers. It is blank. He stares at it curiously before looking at Theo who winks. 

Bill nods, standing to leave Theo and Harry alone. “I’m going to turn in. Thanks, Harry. And… thanks, Nott.”

They nod their good nights and as Bill retreats to his room he hears Theo muttering to Harry. “Are you absolutely certain?”

Bill isn’t sure either, but decides to trust Harry and Percy. He’ll know when he knows. 


	7. Old Habits

It’s been 8 days, 4 hours and 32 minutes. The shaking has dissipated, but the cravings have yet to subside. Craving. Not a single potion, not a single fuck. Boring, but his head hurts less, anyway.

He sees the owl fly past his office window again, and he tenses, the aching intensifies in his left shoulder and it is immediately harder to breathe. There is a knock on the door and he takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he answers.

“Come in Cecilia.”

“Mr. Zabini, I’m sorry to bother you again. It’s just, your--”

“My mum, again.”

“Yes sir.” She pauses. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Never better.” He grumbles.

“You look dreadful, sir. You’ve looked dreadful for the past week. Shall I call you a healer?”

“I said, I’m fine.” Blaise snaps before taking a deep breath. “Please tell my mum I’ll be at dinner this evening. And find me the notes from yesterday’s meeting.”

“Yes, sir. Are you sure you--”

“I’m quite sure, Cecilia.”

”I could just call Mr. Nott and--”

“Cecilia, I am _fine!_ ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and speaking of Theodore, can you pick up my robes from Madame Malkin’s please?”

“Yessir.”

The door clicks closed behind her, though with much more force than necessary, Blaise was quite sure. He stands and strides to the window, pouring himself a drink and swirling it in the glass. The amber liquid reminds him of the beautiful brown eyes of his last tryst, and he quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind. Sobriety is overrated, particularly when there seems to be no point of it. Blaise is determined to do right by Theo, though. And so he perseveres.

A knock sounds again, and he growls as he spins toward the door. “What _is it_ , Cecil--”

“Nice to see you too, Blaise.”

“Harry.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zabini!” Cecilia dashes through the door, hot at Harry’s heels. “Mr. Potter just, he just walked in past me!”

“Imagine, Harry Potter, doing whatever he wants.” The corner of Blaise’s mouth twitches as he sits down on the end of his desk. “It’s fine, Cecilia. Let Mr. Potter in, please.”

“I didn’t call him, sir.” She stammers as she retreats through the door.

“This,” Blaise says as he rubs his shoulder, “I believe.”

Harry comes in and sits directly in front of Blaise, crosses one leg over the other and leans back in the chair. He stashes his wand behind his ear and folds his hands behind his head.

Blaise finds the act amusing. Are these his interrogation tactics for work?

“Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an arse. What are you up to, Blaise?”

“What _ever_ do you mean, Harry?”

“ _Why_ is my husband in such a tizzy about you?”

“Husband? Did I miss the wedding already?” Blaise stares at his watch lazily.

“Theo is worried about you,” Harry interrupts him. “And if Theo is worried, it means I am worried. Does this have something to do with that naked young man at that absurd impromptu stag party you threw him?”

“Stag-- Potter. Are you daft? Do you really think _that_ was a party I would throw?”  Blaise is insulted until Harry laughs behind his hand.

“I don’t care what you do in your spare time, Zabini. I only care when it upsets Theo. Now, are you involved in anything I need to be worried about?”

“No, Harry.”

“Is Theo involved in something I need to worry about?”

Blaise scoffs “Absolutely not, Harry.”

“Do I need to worry about you not showing up for the wedding? Because as important as I’d like to think I am, I’m also pretty damn self-aware, Zabini. And you’re the only one I know he _needs_ to be there.”

“I’ll be there, Potter. And everything is fine. I promise. I imagine Theo just has some pre-wedding jitters.”

Harry stares at him skeptically. “The only thing on his mind lately is you, Zabini. I’d like to be jealous, but I’m more worried than anything… about the both of you. And I don’t want to be worried. I want to be elated. Excited. I’m getting married this weekend and _you_ are not going to muck it up, yeah?”

“You’ve nothing to worry about.” Blaise downs the amber liquid in one swallow. “Seriously, Harry. I’ll talk to Theo. I’m fine. He’s fine. We’re fine… You’re fine.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” Harry uncrosses his legs as he stands up. “You coming around for dinner tonight? You haven’t joined us in months now.”

“Your hands are a bit full from what I hear, these days.”

“Never too full for you, Zabini.”

“I’ve got plans this evening with my mum, but thanks, Harry. I’ll see you lot this weekend for the big day.”

Harry eyes him closely. “He loves you, Nott.”

Blaise cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head.

Harry raises his palms in surrender. “By extension, that means I look after you, mate. That’s my job now: Keep him safe.”

“Sounds tougher than ‘Savior of the Wizarding World’. Needed a bigger challenge?”

“No need to mock, Zabini. I’m well aware of how little I impress both you and my betrothed. Doesn’t matter, still love him. Still won’t let anyone hurt him.”

“I won’t hurt him, Harry.”

“I’m going to hug you now before I leave, Blaise.”

Blaise rolls his eyes. “For the love of,” but he is cut off as Harry squeezes him tightly, knocking the wind out of him. He resists for a moment before relaxing into his embrace. “I guess I ought to get used to this, eh Potter?”

Harry laughs, pushing his hair back and adjusting his glasses.

“Now, get out of here Potter before you set the rumor mill in motion.”

Blaise sits back down in his chair, contemplating the door as it closes behind Harry. His actions affected more than just himself, and clearly Theo was more worried than he’d previously imagined. Harry wasn’t always the most perceptive of men, Blaise had long ago decided. A damn good auror, but couldn’t sniff out an issue amongst his nearest and dearest to save his life. It was the downfall of the loyal. If you didn’t have it in you to betray, you didn’t easily see it in others. And if the profoundly far-sighted Harry Potter was aware that Theodore was concerned for him, then perhaps Blaise was doing worse than he previously imagined. Perhaps, things they don’t want to come to light are more perilous than Blaise has realized.

“Cecilia,” he calls through the door. “Did you get those robes?”

“I was just on my way, sir.”

He opens the office door to see her standing in the outer entryway, one hand on the knob and an umbrella in her hand. “It’s fine. I’m going to get some air. I’ll get them while I’m out.”

Cecilia nods, setting her belongings back down at the desk.

“And Cecilia,” Blaise pauses, considering her momentarily. “Thank you. For your concern. I… appreciate you.”

He strides through the door, feeling her eyes bore into him as the door closes behind him.   

 

 

     ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Bill is smiling, the corners of his eyes creasing with merriment as laughter bubbles out of him, rich and deep. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long time, and he can see Theo and Harry are enjoying the new Bill as well.

“He bought me a drink! Liked my earring.” Bill beams, feeling light as air. “Invited me back to his place.“

Theo stops laughing for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps you should be where I can keep a closer eye on you.”

“Well, I didn’t go, did I? But, the attention was nice.”

“It sounds like quite a party.” Harry elbows Theo pointedly. “You’ve been out just about every night the past few weeks.”

“Just having a bit of fun, boys. I’m already tiring of it a bit, though, if I’m honest.”

“Tired isn’t the word I would use to describe you at the moment, Bill.” Harry is laughing and Bill joins him again.

“Well, I’m not exactly meeting my soulmate at a pub, am I? Made a few friends. Had a few laughs, a fling or two. But, I was married for a long time, mate. I liked the comfortable life. Predictable...”

He trails off. “Well, it was predictable, for a bit. This is fun, though. I haven’t felt this desirable in a long time.”

“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Bill watches as Theo brushes the hair back from Harry’s forehead before kissing his temple. “Being desired, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bill nods, standing to his feet and wiping his hands on his trousers. “I think I might try your place tonight, Theo.”

“You’ve said it at least 4 times now, Bill.” Harry laughs heartily. “What on earth is so intimidating about this establishment of yours, Theodore?”

“More the reputation than anything. Cream of the crop and all. Not certain I belong.”

“You belong, Weasley.” Theo nods. “Cream of the crop, though…”

Bill inclines his head, but Theo says no more and so he goes to change. He’s rather enjoying himself, if he’s honest. The music and the dancing and the drinks fill what had previously been long and empty evenings. But the days are the same. He’s still not sure who he’s going home to, or with… if anyone. It would be nice to have a hand to hold, to spend a whole night in the same bed instead of sneaking out in the early morning. But, meeting new people, exploring and experimenting has been new, different and exciting.

Bill slips a shirt over his head and reaches for his jacket when he looks up and sees Theo through the mirror, standing behind him. He jumps.

“Be careful, this evening, Weasley.”

“Gods, you scared me Nott!”

“Keep it down, will you?” Theodore shushes him. “Listen, I just want you to be careful. Go sit with Jacob and, just don’t go home with anyone, yeah?”

“For fucks sake, Nott. What the hell are you so nervous about there? Your reputation is; listen, I worry about not even being let in!”

Theo chuckles. “Bill, just go have fun. But, know there’s a reason I don’t go in. There’s a reason I don’t bring Harry around. There’s a reason it’s frequented by the ‘cream of the crop’ as you put it. And, I’d like to keep it open without arousing my darling soon-to-be husband’s interests. Just stay on the surface, alright? And for fucks sake, don’t go dancing on any tables.”

Bill is perplexed as he slips his leather jacket on and Theo exits the room again. “Bit dramatic.” He mutters and shakes his head as he walks out the front door, waving to Harry. He makes his way down the road and pulls the card Theo gave him out of his pocket before apparating.

Landing steadily on his feet, Bill looks up at a rich mahogany sign hanging over a tall brick building. “Incendio” he murmurs, glancing around at the line of people standing outside. It is an interesting name, and he isn’t quite certain what to expect.

“Excuse me.” Bill sidesteps a well-dressed couple and straightens his jacket before he heads toward the back of the line. He glances up when someone is suddenly calling his name.

“Mr. Weasley!”

He looks all around him, but doesn’t see anyone he recognizes.

“Bill Weasley!” He glances up the steps and sees a tall, muscular young man waving to him. He’s got a loose ponytail, pulling back a main of long chestnut hair, and he’s dressed all in black. His pants are, if possible, Bill thinks, even tighter than his shirt. Bill’s mouth gapes open as the man run’s down the front steps from the bar. Now, under the streetlight he can see the tiniest glimpses of tattoos extending out the sleeve of his shirt and up his neck from his collar.

“Mr. Weasley. This way.” The man grabs him by the elbow and drags him up the steps.

Bill is staring back and forth between the line he had been making his way to the end of, and the delicious man pulling him up the steps, past the bouncer the man calls ‘Jones’ and into a dark bar. He is overwhelmed, and suddenly wonders if he’s made a mistake.

Everything is made of dark mahogany, the walls and floor, the ceiling. But it is enrobed in vast swaths of material, shades of red from light to deep, creating the effect of fire dancing up the walls. It is dizzying, and makes it hard to see into each of the dark corners of the room.

“I’m Jacob,” comes the voice in his ear, shouting to be heard over the din, and Bill is startled back to the present, realizing he has been staring.

“I’m…” but he trails off, obviously Jacob knew who he was.

“Mr. Nott asked me to find you and keep you close.” Jacob winks.

Bill certainly isn’t going to argue with that, and finds himself seated at the end of a long bar. He accepts a glass of tawny amber liquid from him, and then watches as Jacob busies himself, mixing and pouring and flirting with the customers.

“Jacob,” he asks when he comes back again. “There’re wizards and witches here. Both. I thought, by reputation, it would be all…”

“Men?” Jacob laughs and Bill ducks his head in embarrassment. “Pureblood society here, Mr. Weasley. You’ll find everyone in need of a… bit of anonymity.”

Bill chews his bottom lip as he looks around. “I can’t quite make anyone out, though.”

“Not unless they want you to,” Jacob smirks again. “You can see me, right?”

“Yes.”

“How about the bloke next to you?”

Bill looks to his right, not having even realized anyone was there.

“No, he’s all blurry. His face is funny, like I can’t quite make it out.”

Jacob nods. “Precisely, now say hullo.”

Bill squints for a moment before clearing his throat. “Hello.”

He gasps as the man’s face swims into view, as if a fog has lifted. “Hello there, handsome.” The man says before Jacob interrupts him.

“Not tonight, Craig.”

Bill looks between them, and then the man’s face is gone again. Except, he cannot quite recall exactly what he looked like and shakes his head to clear it.

“Have another drink, Mr. Weasley. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Jacob, call me Bill, please?”

Jacob laughs heartily. “I like you, Mr. Weasley, but I like my job more. Just hang on, I’ll be back.”

Bill is more certain than ever that he may be out of his league, and goes back to watching the foggy outlines of the people dining and dancing as he sips his drink. A hand appears next to him and suddenly Bill is staring into the most crystal blue eyes he’s ever seen. His face is framed by a tangle of ink black hair and Bill swallows at their proximity.

“Mick.” The man says, extending his hand.

“How- how can you see me?” He stammers, staring at the proffered hand.

Mick laughs. “You, mate, want to be seen.”

“I do?” Bill is trying to collect himself, but the thumping of the music, the drinks, and the man standing before him provide an intoxicating environment.

“Dance with me?”

Bill hesitates, Theo’s voice ringing in his head. What could it hurt, though? He stands, reaching to take hold of Mick’s still extended hand when he feels a strong hand on his other shoulder.

“Not this one, Mick.” Jacob’s hand tightens around his shoulder from out of nowhere, and Bill sits as he is forced back into his seat.

Mick’s eyes flash as he levels his gaze to Jacob’s, and Bill sits back, watching them.

“Just a dance, Jacob.”

Jacob lowers himself onto his elbows, leaning forward across the bar. Bill is surprised that he and Mick can both hear him over all the noise, because his voice is barely louder than a whisper, but so low and sharp Bill is stopped in his tracks. “Your games here continue at Mr. Nott’s discretion. _Not_ this one, Mick. Or you’ll be done and gone tonight.”

Mick’s eyes narrow as Jacob straightens back up and addresses Bill once again, the cheerful tone returned. “Mr. Nott would not be pleased with me.” He jerks his head toward Mick’s departing back.

“This place,” Bill confides. “It’s different than I imagined. I feel differently here.”

“It’s intentional.” Jacob smiles, wiping a glass and putting it on the shelf behind him. “I’ve got to walk into the back for a moment. Can you actually stay here this time?”

Bill laughs. “I’ll stay right here for now, Jacob.”

He busies himself with staring at the blurred faces, trying to make them out for a while. He is fairly certain he sees the Minister of Magic in the back corner, but then he is gone again, and he isn’t even certain he can recall what he looked like to begin with.

Movement to his left distracts him momentarily, someone bumps into him taking their seat and he gasps inaudibly as his heart skips several beats. He turns toward them, slowly trying to catch his breath, and sees quite clearly.

He is, without a doubt, the most beautiful person Bill has ever seen, and it registers in the back of his mind how extraordinary this is, having been married to a part Veela for more than a decade. He’s not sure why he can see him so clearly, but it’s suddenly as if he is the only other person in the room. Sounds fade into the distance, and the room grows brighter around him.

“Hullo” he ventures, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears.

The man turns to face him, smirking as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I think you stumbled into the wrong bar, Weasley.”

Bill’s mind is racing as he furrows his brow. How does this man know him? And why can Bill see him? And why, he continues, as features fall slowly into place and it suddenly dawns on him who it may be. Bill is not certain if he wants his suspicions to be correct or not and runs his hand through his hair nervously.

“I don’t think so... Zabini, it is, right?”

“Indeed. And, my apologies, then.” Blaise offers, extending his glass and clinking it against Bill’s.

“I think you’re friends with Nott, right?” Bill is confused about a million different things and suddenly starkly aware of everything he says and does. His heart is racing as he stares at the man before him. He’s mesmerizing, and Bill find himself staring at his lips as he speaks, wanting to taste them.

Blaise nods, breaking Bill from his reverie. “Guilty as charged. And you with his Mr. Potter.”

Bill opens his mouth to ask how he knows him, but Blaise interrupts him.

“Yes, I know who you are, Weasley.”

He feels as if he owes some explanation for his presence here at the bar, though he isn’t certain why. “It’s my first night. Harry, said, well, he recommended it, and it took me a few weeks to, well, you know, but—”

“Well then, any friend of NottPott’s--”

Bill snorts, his nose burning as his beverage comes out of it, spraying across the bar. “Sorry,” he gasps. “What did you just call them?” Oh, he is definitely going to harass Harry with this newfound knowledge.

Blaise chuckles. “Let me buy you a drink, Weasley.”

He extends his hand, smiling, and formally introduces himself. “Bill.”

And then their hands are grasped together, and the electric shock of Blaise’s touch thrums through him. Bill’s eyes widen and he knows Blaise feels it too because he gasps, his mouth falling open. It is positively intoxicating, frightening and new, as if the world had suddenly tilted off its axis, leaving him stranded and floundering upside down in a foreign place.

“It’s,” Bill watches as Blaise licks his lips, his breathing heavy as his chest rises and falls. “It’s loud in here. Do you-- would you like to get dinner or…?”

“Yes.” Bill responds before he thinks. There was absolutely nothing he wanted to do more than go with Blaise, somewhere, anywhere.

“Mr. Zabini. Mr. Weasley.” It is Jacob, staring at the two of them, his eyes wide as he looks back and forth between one and the other. “Where are you going?”

“Dinner, Jacob.” Nott speaks lazily, and Bill smiles, taken in as the man draws up, slipping into another character right there before him.

“Mr. Nott asked me to keep an eye on Mr. Weasley this evening, Mr. Zabini.” Jacob gives no ground.

“Well, I hardly think he meant from me, Jacob.”

“They’re friends.” Bill interjects, but he is vaguely aware that a conversation is taking place that he is not part of.

“I’m well aware, Mr. Weasley.” Jacob smiles at him before turning back to Blaise. “I just follow orders, Mr. Zabini. The list of them seems to be getting longer concerning you.”

“You’re supposed to follow mine, too.” Blaise looks at him coldly. “Dinner, Jacob. We’re just going to dinner. Send him an owl if you feel so compelled to report something.”

“I’d like dinner, Jacob. With him.” Bill smiles, winking at Jacob to lighten the mood, and wondering what the _hell_ is actually going on. “I’m a grown man, I appreciate the welcome this evening, but I think I’ve got it from here.”

Bill glances down and realizes that his hand has somehow managed to end up in Blaise’s, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. He knows he is smiling like an idiot, but he cannot help it.

“Shall we?” Blaise gestures toward the door with his free hand, and Bill nods. He bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed, anything to rid his face of the stupid smile he cannot control. But, as they walk back up the stairs hand in hand and step out onto the street, he catches a glimpse of Blaise’s face in the moonlight, and he sees the same look mirrored there that he feels on his own.

His heart is racing, and he knows, deep down, that life is going to be very different from here on out.


	8. Love and Other Things

Blaise can feel Theo staring a hole in the back of his head, and he knows he’s in big trouble. Bill keeps smiling at him from the chairs on Harry’s side in a way that gives him butterflies and makes his knees weak, but he really wishes he would stop.  
  
It’s only been 3 days, but Blaise is pretty sure he could drown in this feeling forever. He’s never felt anything like it before, and if it never ends, it will be too soon.  
  
He sneaks a peek at Theo again and cringes. He probably could have handled it a bit differently. Blaise hadn’t meant to drop off the face of the earth until the wedding, but there was just so much to do, to talk about, to experience, to learn... with Bill.  
  
He had showed up, though. In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been a great opening line with Theodore.  
  
_“Oh, you showed up? D’ya hear that, Jacob? He showed up! The. best. man. showed. up. to. his. best. friend’s. wedding!” Theo was red faced, shaking as he had rounded on Blaise._  
  
_“With him of all people, Zabini? For fucks sake!”_  
  
_“It’s not like that, Theo!” Blaise shook his head and sank into the wall with a thud.  “He is not a one night stand.”_  
  
_“He’s not!”_  
  
_Jacob had cleared his throat. “Sorry, Mr. Nott. But, they’re ready for you.”_  
  
_“Get your arse out there and make this magical for Harry with me, Blaise.”_  
  
_“You— you look nice, Theo.” Blaise ventured as Theo had stormed past him._  
  
_“Now, Zabini!”_  
  
So there they are, standing in the middle of a twinkling garden, surrounded by Harry and Theo’s,  well, mostly Harry’s, nearest and dearest. An old warlock is droning on about love and souls and everyone else is oblivious to the mounting tension in his best friend’s stance. Blaise is absolutely certain that Theo is going to punch him square in the face. And it is going to hurt.  
  
“Calm down,” he whispers just behind Theo, his lips barely moving. “I’m clean, totally clean. Eleven days now. And I’ve spent the last three with him. No one night stand. I promise. I’ll explain. Focus on Harry, mate. He looks dashing; and you’re going to miss your vows.”  
  
Bill winks in a way Blaise knows is meant to be subtle and only for him, when he hears Theo spit like an angry cat. “Fuck.”  
  
He can see Harry furrow his eyebrows  and tentatively reach for Theo’s hands. “Say I do and kiss him, mate.” Blaise whispers again.  
  
And Theo does. Blaise can see every ounce of tension and anger melt out of him as Harry’s lips crash down upon his own. Blaise steps backward, involuntarily moved by the sheer intensity of their power.  
  
Everyone is crying and laughing and clapping as they stare at Harry and Theo. Blaise glances over toward Bill and feels it again when their eyes meet. “Shit” he breathes trying to catch his breath.  
  
Theo passes him as the procession heads back down through the aisle, and mutters, “Shit is right, Zabini. You’re in deep shit.”  
  
Blaise feels his stomach drop into the floor again as he gets in line behind Theo and follows him, Harry and Ron to greet the guests heading inside.  
  
He greets people as they pass, offering his thanks to those attending, commenting on the weather and how handsome Theo and Harry look. His mum reaches them, and Blaise and Theo each hug her tightly.  
  
“Congratulations, Theodore.” She smiles warmly at him, practiced and polished. “I wish you both all the blessings of abundance as you make this... permanent choice.”  
  
Harry chokes and Theo grabs his hand quickly, bringing it to his lips with a silencing look.  
  
“You look happy.” She says to Blaise, fixing his collar as she passes. “Don’t get any ideas about any of this being acceptable for you.”  
  
As she departs, Blaise reaches to grab a drink from the nearest passing tray and downs it in one swallow.  
  
“Sober?” Theo snaps under his breath, leaning past Harry to glare at Blaise.  
  
“No potions.” He growls back.  
  
And then he is shaking more hands and there are a brood of redheads hugging and kissing Harry. He realizes he is immersed in Weasleys and his heart leaps as he looks for Bill, seeing him at the end of the line.  
  
Blaise is shaking hands and hugging them each in turn, trying to keep track of them all. Arthur, Molly, Percy, George, Ginny, Charlie, Hermione, followed by so many spouses and children he can’t keep count.  
  
And then there is Bill. And every fiber of his body is electrified as he takes his hand, wrapping him in a hug. A shiver runs down his spine as Bill places a kiss behind his ear and he knows he is smiling stupidly again.  
  
He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “I thought Potter was an orphan,” he chuckles to Bill.  
  
“No one is alone with the Weasleys... ever.” Bill winks and goes to follow his family inside.  
  
“Stay.” Blaise whispers, holding his hand tightly and smiling wider when he sees Bill blush.  
  
“Nott won’t like that. I saw him glaring at you.”  
  
Harry interjects through a smile tightly screwed into place, “Never mind him. Do as you wish, Bill.”  
  
Bill stays, their hands clasped in hiding behind them as the few remaining guests file past them.  
  
“I’m going to want to hear more about this later,” Ron murmurs as he passes them, the doors closing behind them.  
  
Bill, Blaise, Harry and Theo remain outside alone. Blaise is prepared for Theo’s wrath as he rounds on him.  
  
“Alright, listen you.” Theo is pointing a finger in each of their faces in turn when Harry wraps his arms around him from behind, tightly.  
  
“Shut it, Nott. This is our wedding day. Our day. Blaise is here. I want this to be about us. Leave them alone, you can lecture to your heart’s content later, but I’m not building a soul bond on spilt Zabini blood and broken Weasley hearts. So take my bloody hand, walk me inside and put this to bed for the night, will you?”  
  
Theo appears to be warring with himself, but sighs resignedly, takes Harry’s hand, and walks inside.  
  
“So, isn’t that your best friend?” Bill murmurs, cupping Blaise’s cheek in his hand.  
  
“You should meet my enemies.”  
  
Bill laughs, wrapping his arms around Blaise and pulling him behind a large tree. He leans against him there, dotting his face with chaste kisses as the sounds of the party blow breezily on the air past them.  
  
“We need to get in there.”  
  
“We?”  
  
Blaise laughs. “Well, I do, at least. Apparently I’ve been shirking my duties as best man, and I need to step up my game.”  
  
“I rather like your game, from what I’ve seen.” Bill is laughing and the sound makes Blaise weak in the knees. “Why is he so angry, anyway?”  
  
“Who, Theo?” Blaise turns, pinning Bill against the tree.  “Doesn’t want me to hurt you.”  
  
“Shouldn’t he be worrying about me hurting you? As your best friend and all?”  
  
It is Blaise’s turn to laugh now. “You’re Harry’s, so you win. Plus, I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”  
  
“So you keep saying.”  
  
“You’re my longest relationship, Bill.” Blaise needs him to understand. To run if he wants to.  
  
“Oh, is it a relationship already?” Bill chuckles against his open mouth and Blaise groans as he swallows the sound of it.  
  
“I’m serious Weasley.”  
  
Bill withdraws, pulling back to look Blaise in the eyes. “This doesn’t feel one-sided. Are you planning to hurt me, Zabini?”  
  
“No!” Blaise shouts, his eyes widening as the sound echoes in the night. “It’s not one-sided. But it’s not anything I’ve ever... I could never hurt you.”  
  
“Well, that’s settled then. Let’s go celebrate the pair of them.”  
  
“Shouldn’t we discuss, our families?”  
  
Bill pauses. “Mine is large and loud and extremely opinionated. But, they’ll be happy for me.”  
  
Blaise laughs. “Very large. Extremely loud. And, eventually, maybe. I hope.”  
  
“Eventually.” Bill concedes. “And yours?”  
  
“Not large or loud. Just my mum, and Theo.”  
  
Nodding, Bill pushes further. “But they’ll be happy for you?”  
  
“Theo... eventually. He’ll come around. He’s angry with me all around, lately. My mum, on the other hand has rather antiquated ideas about purebloods and bonds.”  
  
“Oh, she’ll hate me.”  
  
“She will hate that you can’t carry on the Zabini name.”  
  
Bill swallows, releasing his hand, and Blaise’s heart sinks at the distance between them. “So, we wait.”  
  
“Tonight is about Harry and Theo.”  
  
Blaise nods quickly as they straighten to walk back and join the celebration. As they reach the door, Bill stops him for a split second, his voice low and full of concern.  
  
“It’s only about them until we leave, yeah? I’m still coming back home with you after?”  
  
Blaise has never been more serious in his life as he turns to face Bill, looking him squarely in the eye. “I’d like nothing more.”  


 

_  
_ **** ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 

It’s sweltering in the catacombs and Bill is dripping with sweat. His hair is tied back, plastered to his neck, and he wonders again precisely what he was thinking when he volunteered. A smile tugs at his lips as he realizes— he’d offered his services months prior to meeting Blaise.

What had seemed better than a short excursion to Paris? A change of scenery, perhaps a chance meeting with Fleur. Oh, what a surprise to see you! You look well… Dinner? Certainly. And then of course, there was the money. With nothing tying him to a desk, the extra money for field work was enticing. Bill was experienced, more so than most of the field employees. They knew he could get in and out quickly with few issues, and that if there were any, he could handle them just as quickly. But, there is no longer any part of him interested in entertaining such thoughts.

No, he thinks, carving through the years of dirt and mud caked into the crest he is there to collect. His mind is altogether occupied elsewhere these days. The mere thought of Blaise sends his heart racing and he’s aching to finish, to return to him. It’s only been eight hours since he left, but it feels like an eternity. His mind is preoccupied, and his chest aches as if he’s missing a part of his body.

It is hard to believe it has only been 2 weeks. He keeps waiting for the feeling to subside, but it’s always there, a tightly wound coil in the middle of his stomach. Work used to be a solace, a comfort, meditative and calming. Now he cannot wait for the days to end, to return to his favorite place: Blaise’s bed. Because in Blaise’s bed, is Blaise, and he feels like home.

Harry and Theo have another week left yet before they return home, and he and Blaise fully intended to continue enjoying the interruption-free time.  That is, until he remembered he had an early morning portkey arranged.

_“Lunch today?” Bill had asked between mouthfuls of bacon. It was early. Blaise liked to complain that nothing decent happens before 10am, but he arose at 6 to join Bill for breakfast anyway. Grumbly, but there._

_“We’re currently eating breakfast.” Blaise shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of tea. “You’re a bottomless pit, Weasley.”_

_“On the contrary. I plan my meals because while I slave away at work, I need an end goal to keep me from quitting.” Bill’s hand had found its way under the table to Blaise’s thigh. He’d smiled as Blaise froze, meeting his gaze with a smirk, before pretending to ignore him._

_“Work is so bad?” He teased._

_“No. But it keeps me from you.”_

_Blaise shifted in his chair, bringing his knees around the leg of the table, closer to Bill. “Unacceptable. Quit.”_

_Bill laughed. “Not quite that easy, love. I’ll settle for lunch?”_

_Blaise had leaned forward, his hand clasping the front of Bill’s shirt, pulling him forward into him. “And dinner. Today, and the next day, and the next.”_

_“Not sick of me yet? You’ve had me every day for the last two weeks.”_

_“And I’ll keep having you until you tell me I can’t.”_

_Shivers. Right down Bill’s spine as he had sank into him. Work was no longer the escape. Blaise was._

_He’d been laying on the table, staring up at Blaise when the tapping started. They’d ignored its increasing urgency until finally Blaise stalked to the window, shirtless, throwing it open for the owl to fly through._

_“Your mum or Theo?” Bill quipped. Blaise received owls like clockwork from both, and it amused Bill to no end as he scoffed and grumbled through their letters._

_“Blasted creature.” Blaise growled, reaching for it. But the owl had evaded his grasp, coming to sit by Bill’s head instead._

_Blinking, he’d sat up when he realized it was from work. A sinking feeling pooled in the pit of his stomach. “What day is it?” He’d asked, pulling the scroll and parcel from the owl’s leg._

_“Wednesday.”_

_But he’d already known. “Shit.”_

_“What?”_

_“Shit. I have to go. I’m going to be late. I have to get to work.”_

_Bill hopped off the table and was racing frantically through the house, grabbing his clothes and lacing his boots as Blaise watched him. He was digging through the trunk at the foot of his bed, searching for his tools, when Blaise spoke again._

_“Is this… a portkey?” Blaise was holding up a small leather-bound notebook._

_“Yes. I completely forgot I have to— shit!” He rubbed the top of his head where the lid had closed on him._

_“Where are you going?”_

_“Found it!” He glanced at the clock. “France.”_

_“Now?”_

_“In… three minutes.” Bill stopped to tie his boot again._

_“So, no lunch.”_

_Bill stopped in his tracks. “No. I’m sorry I completely forgot.”_

_“France?”_

_“Yes.” He reached in to say goodbye, but Blaise was stiff, passive and withdrawn as he kissed him. “I’ll be home soon.”_

_“Today?”_

_“If I’m quick.”_

_Blaise’s gaze was far away as Bill grabbed his satchel and took hold of the notebook._

_“I’ll see you soon?” Bill called breathlessly, checking the clock on the mantle._  

_“I—”  Blaise began, but then as the familiar sensation pulled him through the air. Bill was gone._

He grips the crest tightly and checks the time. It was easier than he’d even expected, and he desperately wants to get back home. Back to Blaise.

Gathering his satchel and securing the crest tightly within, he takes one last glance around the catacombs before making his ascent. If he hurries, he can catch a portkey back this evening and be home in time for bed.

Bed… a smile drags the corner of his lip upwards as he pushes the button for the lift again, willing it to hurry. Bed with Blaise has become one of his favorite places, which is saying something, because everywhere with Blaise is an adventure. The sex is great, of course, but it was somewhere after their fourth night together that Bill realized he hadn’t slept that well in an eternity. It is the moments in between, falling asleep or waking up wrapped in his arms, a leg slid between the other’s.

The lift finally dings and Bill looks up to enter.

“Bill!”

His eyes widen as he steps inside. “Juls? Macey!”

“What the hell are you doing here, old man?” Bill is immediately engulfed in their embrace.

“Work! What else?” He laughs, hoisting the satchel back over his shoulder.

“You’ve been out of the field for ever!” Juls eyes twinkle as he laughs, throwing an arm around Macey.

“We haven’t seen you in ages.” She agrees. “Thought you forgot about all of us slaving down here in the dark and dreary places.”

Bill rolls his eyes. “You know damn well I’d have preferred to be here than at that dark and dreary desk.”

“Fleur let you off your chain, then?” Macey ribs him with her elbow.

“No chain.” Bill shrugs, watching as the lift ascends. “Nine months now.”

“Blimey, I’m sorry mate.” Juls is serious, his brows furrowed. “Hiding out down here?”

“No, actually. It was tough for a bit, but…” He trails off.

“Ah, he’s met someone already!” Macey waggles her eyebrows. “Come have a drink with us. Tell us all about her!”

“Ah, can’t.” Bill watches as they draw nearer to the surface, a smile plastered on his face. “Gotta get back. 

“Just one drink?”

“Rain check.” Bill smiles, hugging them both tightly. “I’ll try to come back soon. But, if you’re back home look me up. I’d love to introduce you.”

“Gonna tell us about her?” Juls laughs as they stride toward the front desk.

Bill waves his fingers as he glances at the clock and takes the glowing portkey into his other hand. “You mean him?” He winks as he disappears, one face in mind. No drink compares to Blaise.


	9. A New Normal

“I—”

The words die on his lips and now Blaise isn’t quite certain what to do with himself when Bill disappears, leaving him standing in his kitchen alone. The table is strewn with dishes and both of their shirts are on the ground where he’d thrown them just a few minutes before, ridding themselves of the offending articles.

He chews on the inside of his cheek. Theo is gone. Bill is gone. He stares around the room, a sudden emptiness in his chest and his stomach twists. Blaise isn’t good at alone. Or bored. When left to his own devices, Blaise makes notoriously poor choices. But he doesn’t want to, not now. He knows Theo believes he’s capable of more, and he wants to prove him right, for him and Bill, too. Bill deserves more, he’s worth more than what Blaise knows himself to be, and he’s determined to be that.

He cleans up the kitchen quickly and showers, that voice gnawing in his head.

_France._

There’s only one thing he knows is in France, and as he dresses and heads to the door he pushes the thought from his mind. Bill had said it was work, so he would believe him.

It is early when he walks into his office, two steaming cups in his hands. Cecilia looks up, startled as he walks through the door.

“Mr. Zabini?”

“Good morning, Cecilia.” He hands her the cup in his right hand and nods before entering his office, leaving her staring open mouthed at his back.

The door has barely closed behind him before Cecilia is knocking and entering behind him.

“Why are you here?”

He quirks a brow, glancing at her before staring back at his paperwork. “Pardon?”

She clears her throat before speaking again, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. “I mean, my apologies. Mr. Zabini, why— um, what brings you into the office so early?”

“It’s half eight, Cecilia.” He answers without looking up and immerses himself in the file on the desk in front of him. It is a few moments before he acknowledges her still standing there.

“Yes, Cecilia?”

“I’m just… I— are you well?”

Blaise blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Mr. Zabini. I’ve worked for you for a year now, and I’ve never seen you here before ten in the morning. And you brought me tea! Honestly, you don’t often make it in before lunch, if at all. I’m just— well, I know Mr. Nott is still out of town…” she gestures feebly around the room as if searching.

Blaise considers her for a moment. “You have been with me for a year now?”

Cecilia giggles. “Over, yes sir. It was a year in April.”

“Thank you.”

She blinks, mouth open again. “Sir?”

“Thank you, Cecilia. For the past 15 months.”

She is staring again, and he’s starting to feel annoyed.

“May I help you with anything else, Cecilia?”

“No, sir. Yes, sir. I mean, thank you, sir, Mr. Zabini, sir.”

Blaise’s mouth twists as the door closes and he shuffles through the paperwork on his desk again. Hours pass as he attacks it with fervor. There is a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tries to make it through the piles. Has he really been this distracted, this careless?

Hours tick by as he crawls through the stacks in front of him. Past due, expired, missed meetings—failures piled up on after another. And still nagging him is one word weaving its way in and out of the forefront of his mind. 

_France._

He scowls. Bill’s departure was abrupt, and Blaise didn’t like it one bit. It wasn’t so much the gnawing knowledge that France is where his ex wife was supposedly hiding out. No, it was more than that if he was being completely honest with himself: Blaise felt anxious without Bill.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been apart, but Blaise had begun to depend on the predictability of Bill’s presence. He’d never had such a constant in his life, unless you counted Theo. Falling asleep on Bill’s chest each night, the scent of him, hard lines and freckles too many to count had become routine. Waking up in his arms, curling into his side before stretching and settling into his shoulder as the sun rose through the curtains wasn’t a future he’d imagined, but now he wanted nothing more.

It’s after 4pm when Blaise finally stands, stretching his hands above his head. Lunch had come and gone, and despite Cecilia’s offer, he had no appetite. He was a bit amazed by his own productivity considering how much time he spent staring out the window waiting for an owl, or something, from Bill.

He’s given up now, and decides it was silly to imagine an owl making it to him from Paris in such a short span, anyway. His heart leaps in his chest, fluttering as he struggles to take a deep breath to calm himself.

Blaise glances toward the lower left drawer of the cabinet along the far wall. Glossy ebony wood shines in the sunlight, silver trim glinting provocatively. It would be so easy. He knows there are plenty of vials within and his hand flexes, opening and closing automatically by his side. One wouldn’t hurt. It would ease the pressure in his chest, let him breathe, numb him. If one wasn’t enough, he could take a second. He’d done two before, and he was fine. Just until Bill comes home. If Bill comes home.

Home. Their home. Together. Did Bill even consider it home? No one knew about them. Would Bill even still want him? And if so, for how long?

“This is embarrassing, Zabini. Get yourself together.” He grumbles, gathering his belongings and calling through the door for Cecilia.

“I need you to send this stack to my mother.” He gestures to the corner of his desk. “And this pile to Jacob. He needs it before the end of day.”

“I didn’t realize you were still working with them.”

“A bit behind, but catching up.” Blaise shrugs as he walks toward the door.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Zabini. Don’t forget dinner with your mother this evening!” Cecilia calls after him.

“Thank you, Cecilia.” He waves over his shoulder as he heads out the door to visit a friend he’s been neglecting since Bill arrived in his life.

It doesn’t take him long to reach St. Mungos. The late afternoon is warm and he’s sweating when he arrives, but he is grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs and clear his mind.

Blaise glances both ways before he passes through the window from the street into the lobby. He tips his head toward the Welcome Witch and heads straight to the lift, pressing the button for the third floor.

The lift is crowded, but when the doors open, the corridor is much emptier. He looks left and right before proceeding around the corner.

He sees her then at the desk in the middle, long black hair swept over her shoulder, glasses pushed high onto her face as her quill scrapes wildly over the stack of files in front of her.

“Renata?”

She looks up quickly, blinking in surprise. “Blaise!”

“Hello, beautiful. I was in the neighborhood and wondered— ow!” Before he’d even had a chance to finish his question she’d punched him hard in the shoulder.

“You have been ignoring my owls for weeks now.”

“For fucks sake, that _hurt!”_

“You missed our dinner.”

“I’m here to apolo—”

“Oh, shut it. Where the hell have you been?” She is standing now, poking him in the chest.

“I’d be happy to tell you, if you’d—”

“Zip it , Zabini.” She snaps, taking his arm. “You look like shit. We’re going for a walk.”

Blaise scowls and follows as she grabs his arm and whirls them outside, calling over her shoulder to the desk. “I’m taking my break!”

They’re outside, back in the heat and have been walking for a few minutes before they sit on a bench. Renata is staring at him, inspecting every inch of him. “Well?”

He purses his lips. “Oh, am I allowed to speak now? What happened to do no harm?” He rubs his chest where she poked him.

“Where have you been?” She ignores his sullen tone, firing questions at him almost faster than he can answer.

“I met someone.”

“And there’s no mail where you met?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

“I realize I’ve been an arse, I wanted to see you.”

“You need something.”

“No.”

She stares at him thoughtfully. “You don’t look like shit… you look more well rested and fed than I’ve seen in ages.” She hesitates, running her hand across his cheek. “You are clean.”

“I am.”

“How long?”

“Twenty three days.”

She removes her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she pushes them up onto her hair. “But you look distressed.”

“It’s nothing.”

Her only response is a baleful look.

“It’s stupid, really.” He sighs, feeling ridiculous. “I was inviting you for a drink, Renata. Not a counseling session.”

She smiles. “Neither of us needs a drink, Blaise. You’ve met someone. Before or after you were sober?”

“After. A week after.”

“Stupid.”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“That’s a first.”

“It is.”

“So?”

Blaise laughs, running his palms across his thighs. “He left. This morning. It’s nothing. I think it’s nothing. But, I wasn’t expecting it. And we haven’t been apart since it started and, I told you this was stupid. It sounds stupid saying it out loud. But, I just can’t breathe the same. It’s like I’ve been walking around in darkness my entire life, and I finally found a light. And, today it disappeared. I want it back.”

He’s staring at the ground, embarrassed that he’s shared so much. This was stupid. He is an idiot. Blaise can’t imagine a more mortifying situation and wishes the ground would open up and swallow him where he sits. Renata isn’t laughing though, and so he peeks up to meet her gaze.

“Tell me about him.”

Blaise smiles despite himself. “He’s good, Renata. He’s really, truly good. He’s too good for me. He’s brilliant and passionate, talented and fucking amazing.”

She laughs.

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you. Have you told him?”

“That he’s amazing?”

“That you love him.”

Blaise freezes.

“Oh, you haven’t realized yet?”

“It’s a bit early to just— I don’t know. I don’t want to frighten him. I’m, I’m a mess, Renata. You know that. He deserves so much better.”

“Not talking about that.” She smiles, standing from the bench.

“Haven’t realized— wait. Wait, Renata! What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“My break is over. I’ve got to get back to work, Blaise. And it’s Thursday, you need to get to dinner with your mum.” She is walking away now.

“Realize what, Renata!”

“Let me know when you do.” She calls over her shoulder. “I want to be there!”

“Be _where?_ ” He’s shouting after her, but she’s just waving over her shoulder, and so he sits there alone, staring after her.

He doesn’t exactly feel better, but it’s comforting that someone in the world knows about them. And, she hadn’t laughed, Blaise reconciles as he stands and makes his way to his mum’s.

He’d desperately like to be able to share this happiness with his mother, but he knows there is no possibility of her being pleased, let alone accepting it. His happiness pales in comparison to the carefully cultivated image she’s so painstakingly created, and nothing will shatter that.

The door swings open and he enters swiftly, clicking it closed behind him. She hates a draft.

“Must you use the door? I hate the draft. Use the floo, Blaise.”

He is smiling, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m sorry, mother. I was out.”

“You seem chipper.”

“I’ve had a productive day.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, swirling her glass before taking a sip. “Your little Cecily sent me the files I’d been asking for. I’m surprised you finally found time in your busy schedule to handle them for me.”

“Her name is Cecilia, mother. And the paperwork is for the foundation. It was due tomorrow, I thought you’d be pleased to receive them early.” Blaise glances toward the bathroom, but he knows better. He won’t be escaping this, not like usual. He wants to be present when Bill gets home later. _Home._

“You missed our dinner last week.”

“My apologies.”

“And the week before.” His mother stares at him, waiting, but he offers nothing further. “I have it on good authority you were visiting Ms. MacMillan today at work.”

Blaise schools his features, allowing no surprise to show as he speaks. “Your spies are improving, mother. I’m impressed. I noticed no one, today.”

“Pish posh, you are simply bold. Ms. MacMillan has a profession, Blaise. Her desire is not to stay home with children. You would be wise to pursue another match.”

“I’m not pursuing her, mother. We are simply friends.”

“You don’t need friends. You need—”

“A wife. I’m aware, Mother.” Blaise’s stomach growls and his mother looks at him.

“Shall we eat now?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, I can hear that.” She stands and walks toward the dining room. “Come.”

Blaise follows her through the hall, concentrating on the knot in his left shoulder. It’s climbing closer to his ear now as the tension mounts and he focuses on exhaling as he trails behind her.

“Are you eating?” She sits, placing her glass next to her plate.

“With you?”

“No, Blaise.” Disdain dripping from her voice. “We are quite obviously to eat now. I’m asking if you  are taking care of yourself. You look well. Agitated, but I expect nothing less during these little dinners of ours.”

“Oh. Yes, mother. I’m eating.” He chuckles to himself, it was unlikely Bill would miss a meal.

Her eyes are narrow as she stares at him, lifting her fork and knife. “It seems you were productive at work today.”

“I _do_ work.”

“Occasionally.”

Blaise sighs heavily, fingers steepled in front of him. “Alright, mother. What would you like to discuss?”

She runs her tongue across her teeth.  “You’ve barely left the house in two weeks. I saw you at Theodore’s wedding and haven’t seen you since. I presumed you were in one of your moods and would re-emerge shortly. But, you seemed quite well at the wedding, and you look… fine, now.”

Blaise tilts his head, but says nothing, and so she picks up her fork and takes a bite of her salad before continuing.

“And then today, I hear you’ve been up and working since the crack of dawn, out in public with Ms. MacMillan, and now here you are.”

Blaise is smiling. “You are worried about me?”

Her eyes flash as she lifts her drink to her lips, draining the glass. “First and foremost, I am your mother, Blaise Zabini. It is a thankless job, and sufficiently difficult to have aged me beyond my years. Your focus in life seems to waver between intentions of self-serving pleasure and testing your own mortality. It costs me considerably to keep track of you, but as you seem to hold your own life and our business in such low regard, you’ve left me with little choice.”

Blaise opens and closes his mouth twice before he can respond.

“I’m— I’m doing well, mother. I am well. Right now. I’m, I’m happy. And, I’m sorry. I haven’t been… well. I haven’t. But, I’m starting to figure some things out. And, I’m going to be present.”

“There is talk, Blaise. I told you when you agreed to shoulder such responsibility for Theodore. I worried then. I cautioned you against it, and you did not listen. The stakes are more precarious than you imagine. Your hold is fragile at best.”

Blaise is silent, contemplating. “I’ll be there. More.”

“And if it is too late?”

“We can fix it.”

“You and Theodore?” She scoffs. “His marriage to Potter leaves him—”

“I will take care of it.” Blaise feels the panic begin to swirl once again.

“I don’t know that it’s salvageable, Blaise. Especially if you disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

She surveys him from across the table and he meets her gaze. There is something there, behind the mask that causes him to inhale. And it is a sickening realization when he sees the fear hidden there behind her eyes: fear for him.

He stands, pushing back from the table. “I think it’s time I head back to work.”  

She doesn’t argue, and he bites is top lip as he realizes it’s more serious than he had thought.

“I will see you next week?”

“I’ll be here.” He nods as he walks purposefully toward the door. It’s time to assess just how badly he’s fucked up.   


 

      ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Blaise?”

It’s dark in the house as Bill walks through the kitchen. The mess from the morning is gone, but there are no lights on.

“Blaise? Are you home?”

He’s checked the bedroom last, but finds it empty. Bill finds that he is surprised; he had expected him to be waiting. Then he feels a bit silly as he stands in the kitchen. Why would Blaise have waited? Should he even be here if Blaise isn’t?

He really wants a shower and had fully expected to take one as soon as he’d arrived. But with Blaise gone, and since it is Blaise’s house, he feels suddenly unsure of himself. It’s only been two weeks, after all.

Indecision. This is a new feeling for Bill. He’s generally pretty certain, he knows what he wants and he gets it. Blaise however, leaves him feeling both confident and unsure in a whirlwind of emotion.

He shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. A shower is in order, so he heads back to Harry and Theo’s place to clean up.

Showered feels good. Dressed feels better. He’s been wracking his brain. Send an owl? Seems needy. He’s been standing there for a few moments when it occurs him. He runs into the bedroom and reaches into his jacket pocket. It’s too warm to need it this evening, but the card Theo had given him before is there, the corners crumpled from its hasty storage two weeks ago. Even if Blaise isn’t there, it’s possible Jacob may know where he is. They seemed friendly.

He inhales, excitement pooling in his belly at the prospect of seeing Blaise again. Somewhere in the furthest reaches of his mind he realizes this feeling, this need, this desire is bordering on dependency. But, he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that he wants to be with Blaise.

The smile remains on his face as the sense of compression overtakes him. When he opens his eyes again he is standing out front of Incendio. The line outside is shorter this evening, but still enough to make him sigh as he trots to join it.

“Weasley!”

He turns and glances over his shoulder. Chewing on his lip, he furrows his brows as the man at the door waves him down. What was his name?

“Jones.” He ventures as he makes his way up the steps.

“Thought Jacob told you last time. No waiting. You’re on the list.”

Bill blushes, glancing back at the line. “I’m not used to such preferential treatment.”

“He’d have my hide if you were out here with this lot.”

Bill blinks, remembering Theo’s warning from before. “Seems like a fairly decent crowd.”

Jones says nothing and holds the door open.

“I’m—” he licks his lips. “I’m actually looking for Blaise?”

Jones smirks. “Mr. Zabini?”

“Is he here?”

Jones inclines his head and turns back to the line outside, and so Bill ducks his head through the door. The interior is as magnificent as he remembers and he’s once again mesmerized by the fire dancing along the walls and ceiling, enveloping the drapes of emerald green cloth flowing in the breeze as the door closes behind him.

He grips the banister tightly as he walks down the stairs. The air is heavy and he is sweating as he descends toward the main room. The fuzzy feeling in his head returns the moment he passes through the doorway. He shakes it, attempting to clear his mind.

He’s scanning the room for Blaise, but sees no sign of him. His gaze falls to the bar and he sees Jacob’s back. He is hunched over the bar speaking to a patron Bill cannot see, hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck and spilling down his shoulders.

Bill walks determinedly toward the bar, still searching for Blaise. He doesn’t sit before Jacob is calling over his shoulder to him. “Just a moment, Mr. Weasley. I’ll be right with you.”

Bill smiles despite himself. Of _course_ Jacob knew he was there. He can’t make out a face in the room, but Jacob knew he was there, probably knew before he’d even entered. Bill stands, palms spread across the countertop, and waits. It is only a moment before Jacob turns to face him, but it gives him the time to look around again. While he waits, he realizes he is still surprised by the fuzzy feeling in his head. It’s a vaguely familiar feeling, uncomfortable, but only mildly.

“Mr. Weasley.” Jacob’s voice brings him back to the present and he’s smiling sheepishly as he meets his eyes.

“Hi, Jacob.”

“What brings you in this evening? Mr. Nott is on holiday for another week, I believe. Are you in need of my services?”

“Oh.” Bill is startled because it wasn’t a response he expected. “I um…”

Jacob is staring at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry. Your services?”

“Yes. You’re on the list, and I will help you in any way I can.”

Bill feels as if he’s missing part of the conversation.

“The list?”

Jacob nods.

“What list?”

Jacob smiles. “You are important to them, and so you fall under my purview, Mr. Weasley. How may I help you?”

Bill is silent for another moment, contemplating. He’s fairly certain he’s not asking the right questions, that he’s missing the rules of a game he didn’t know he was playing. “I’m looking for Blaise.”

Jacob’s eyes narrow for just a moment before they sparkle again, and now Bill wonders if he’s playing the wrong game entirely.

“Mr. Zabini.”

“Yes?”

“Why would you look for him here?” His voice is calm, emotionless, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I— I assumed this is a place he frequents. Because of last time I was here. I left early this morning for work, and I just thought—” He swallows. “I thought you may know where he is.”

Jacob is inspecting him and Bill shifts uncomfortably. He hadn’t expected this sort of reaction.

“And what business do you have with Mr. Zabini?”

He feels like he should leave. He’ll just wait for Blaise to contact him. But what if he doesn’t? The thought makes him nauseous and Bill realizes he hasn’t ever been plagued with such self-doubt before.

“Never mind.” He mumbles toward the ground.

“You shouldn’t just show up here, Mr. Weasley.”

“I’m sorry.” Bill is irritated now. “Theo gave me the card. Aren’t I on your bloody list, you said?”

“It’s not that sort of list. Do you want a drink, Mr. Weasley, or will you be heading home now?”

“No, I don’t want a bloody drink, Jacob.” He snaps, the word _home_ piercing in his chest. He’d come here because he wanted to go home. Home was a place he hadn’t had in a long time now, though. The closest he’d felt was the past two weeks with Blaise and he’d instinctively been drawn to return to it. To him.

“Home then? Shall I escort you?”

Bill wants to punch him now, his fist is clenched by his side.

“To Blaise.”

“Home, Mr. Weasley.”

“Tell me, Jacob. This list. Is it a list of people to be a bloody fucking wanker to?” He’s growling now. Jacob is being intentionally obtuse, keeping him from Blaise. He knows it.

Bill raises his palm to slap it on the counter when a hand is suddenly wrapped around his wrist, stopping him mid-air. His breath catches in his throat as he whirls around. He knows it’s him before he even turns.

“Making friends with the customers, Jacob?”

“Blaise.”

“Hi love.” Blaise kisses his temple and Bill can breathe again. He’s chuckling against his hair and Bill closes his eyes, sinking into his side.

“You weren’t there.

Blaise is staring at Jacob whose jaw is twitching as he looks at each of them in turn. They’re having a silent war and it seems to go on forever before Jacob finally looks down at the bar and Blaise speaks again.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit behind at work and thought I’d use the time to catch up.” His breath tickles Bill’s cheek as he speaks.

“He’s a lot behind.” Jacob mutters to no one in particular.

“I won’t be for long.” Blaise’s voice is cold toward Jacob, but his hand is warm and soft on Bill’s hip.

“It won’t hold, Mr. Zabini.”

“This isn’t the time or place, Jacob.”

Jacob nods, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he scans the bar. His gaze settles on a room in the far corner. Bill recognizes it from his first time and music is thumping, emanating towards them. It’s hypnotic and Theo’s voice is playing distantly in his memory. Something about dancing, Bill thinks, trying to remember until Jacob and Blaise’s voices break him from his reverie.

“The next time I give you a direction, I expect you to follow it, Jacob.”

Jacob looks up, glancing at Bill before meeting Blaise’s eyes. “Yes sir, Mr. Zabini.”

Bill wants to ask questions, but Blaise’s hand is on his back and they’re leaving now, climbing the stairs. He’s torn between curiosity and exhilaration at being back with Blaise. He is intoxicating and Bill swears he feels sparks when they touch.

“Is it a problem I came to find you?” He finally ventures as Jones opens the door and they step back out into the warm evening air. They’re stopped under a streetlight and Bill sees the faintest of expressions flicker over Blaise’s face. But then he has turned to him and he’s kissing him and Bill barely remembers the question.

“Find me?” Blaise chuckles into his mouth as Bill wraps his hands around his neck.

“Yes. You weren’t there.” He doesn’t want to say _it,_ doesn’t want to sound stupid.

Blaise pulls back. “Did you find what you needed in France?” His voice is cautious, and Bill hesitates, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Yes, something simple for work.”

“So it was an it, not a who?”

If suddenly makes sense and Bill stifles a laugh.“You’re the only _who_ I’ve been looking for. You weren’t there.”

“Home. I wasn’t home?”

Bill’s breath catches in his throat and he nods numbly, leaning his forehead to Blaise’s. Blaise had said it for him.

Blaise turns his head and he’s whispering into Bill’s ear now. “I would do the same. I would find you, Bill. If ever you were lost, I would find you and bring you home.”

“Home.” Bill murmurs into his neck. It sounded so natural, so perfect coming from Blaise. “I like that. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

Blaise is looking at him intently now. “You do. With me. Us. I know it hasn’t been…” He is speaking between kisses now, pulling back to groan words into the night air as Bill’s hands reach under his shirt, drawing him closer. “I’ve never been more sure about anything, Bill.”

“Take me home, Zabini.” He whispers. And so he does.


	10. Navigating Murky Waters

_Dark. The room is dark. Shadows dance in murky stillness as his eyes flutter open and closed._

_Hot. He can feel the heat intensifying through the door. Sweat beads on his forehead and drips into his eyes, stinging._

_Iron. He can taste it, metallic and warm as it rolls down his tongue and pools at the back of his throat. He swallows, cringing._

_Deafening. It’s so loud. There’s screaming mingling with the crackling of flames and the thud of wood falling. He strains to turn his head._

_Pain. Smoke is pouring into his face, whipping up under the door and into his lungs. He wants to cough, but the pressure is too great in his chest._

_He’s on the floor, he thinks. He usually is. But he doesn’t remember how he got there. He never remembers. Little bits change, but it’s always the same. He knows what comes next._

_He’s struggling to roll over, and then he succeeds._

_They’re laying there, eyes wide and empty. Harry is on his back, facing the ceiling. His glasses are missing and his face is blistered, tattered, but it’s definitely him. Harry had been the newest addition to his nightmares. He should have been the last; Blaise vowing to care for no one else. He whispers his name, bile rising in his throat. “Harry.”_

_Blaise’s eyes move downward and Theo is on top of him, covering Harry’s body with his own, but his_

_eyes… they look vacantly toward Blaise, and he cannot tear his own away. It used to just be Theo. It was always Theo. He’s most used to the sight of him, mangled and broken, and always lifeless. He chokes, his eyes burning from smoke and pain. “Theo!”_

_And then there is Jacob, shattered like a glass doll against the wall, his neck at an awkward angle, his arm behind him and his leg twisted backward. Jacob is beautiful even in death, and Blaise blinks, his eyes trailing along the chestnut locks tangled on the floor._

_And next to him, Blaise realizes for the first time, is Bill. Red hair matted with blood against his face. He’s laying face down, his cheek pressed against the wooden floor. A puddle of blood is ever expanding around his head and he can see the bones of his eye jutting through.  Blaise gags as he rolls to stand up._

_Bill is new._

_He shouts his name, pulling himself to his feet._

_“Bill!”_

_He’s gagging at the sight of them. His arms are outstretched as he reaches toward them, climbing to his knees. He knows he’s too late. He’s always too late. Their eyes haunt him in sleep and when awake. But he tries, anyway. He always tries._

_Someone is calling his name, but he can’t tear his eyes from them long enough to search._

_“Blaise.”_

_His name sounds with urgency, but he cannot stop to see who is calling him. He needs to get to them._

_He’s staggering forward, searching for a wand, anything, as the door cracks and crumbles behind him. The blast of heat knocks him from his feet._

_Pain, again._

_He cries out and then hears his name once more, distant and faint. “Blaise.”_

_He rolls to his knees, but as he looks back toward them they’re far away from his reach again. The flames are catching up with him, lapping at his feet as he pulls himself along the ground, shouting their names._

_The room is shaking as he tries to steady himself._

_“Blaise!”_

_His name grows louder, more insistent, and the room is fading from his vision, the world growing brighter and cooler, the heat of the flames melting away._

He is disoriented, dripping in sweat, his shirt stuck to his body as he gasps for air.

_“I didn’t know you were still working with them.”_ Cecilia’s voice echoes in his memory.

“You’re alright, love. Blaise. You’re alright. Breathe.”

His heart is racing and as his eyes adjust to the light of the room. He’s clinging tightly to Bill, he realizes.

“Weasley?”

He’s kissing his temple and Blaise is rolling to his knees again, inspecting every inch of him. His hands are on Bill’s face and he’s pulling him toward him, mumbling into his hair. “Safe. Stupid. Fire. Love. You.” He knows it’s nonsensical, but he can’t seem to stem the flow of words falling from his mouth.

_"There is talk, Blaise.”_ His mother’s voice claws at him.  

“Blaise?” Bill is pulling away, staring at him.

He takes a shaky breath and climbs from the bed, glancing at the clock. It’s afternoon, already. Stumbling into the next room, he calls over his shoulder “Shower.”

He doesn’t look back as he steps through the door, peeling his clothing off and tossing it in a pile on the floor.  The water sprays down, loosening the knots in his shoulders, and he exhales deeply, palms against the cool tile of the wall.

A potion. He’d normally down a vial now to calm his racing heart and ease his nerves. He’s raw and it hurts even now that he’s awake.

“Blaise?”

_“I told you when you agreed to shoulder such responsibility for Theodore.”_ Flashes of their bodies, broken on the ground, race through his mind. Her voice licks at his mind as the flames lap at his flesh.

“Blaise?” Bill is calling through the door again.

“I need a minute.” He snaps and cringes before adding softly. “Please.”

Images of the flames lapping at Harry’s flesh swim before his eyes and he turns the water colder still.

It feels like ages before his breathing has calmed and he grabs a towel, wrapping it around himself. The mirror is fogged and he streaks his hand across the glass, fragmented pieces of his own face look back at him.

_“He’s a lot behind.”_ The truth of Jacob’s judgement assaults him. _“Trouble is brewing, Mr. Zabini. They’re planning. You haven’t been here. I’m doing what I can, but…”_ He’d gestured to a stack of parchment on the desk.

His forehead presses against the cold glass, deep breaths to still his shaking hands. _“The threats are adding up.”_ Jacob’s voice continues. “ _They’re going to find out. Mr. Nott won’t be safe.”_

A potion. He wants one. He needs one. Or two. But he doesn’t _do_ that anymore. When he raises his eyes Bill is standing there, and Blaise whips around.

“I, um. I brought you some tea.” Bill is staring at the floor and Blaise lifts a hand to his chin, bringing his eyes to meet him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Bill’s eyes are apprehensive.

“No.” Blaise laughs.

Bill’s eyebrows contract as he steps closer toward him. “Can I help?”

“No.” Blaise’s voice is low as he swallows. “I’m a mess, Weasley.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It’s the truth.”

Bill rolls his eyes. “What happened in there?”

“I have nightmares.” Blaise is walking past him now to get dressed, rummaging through drawers and pulling a shirt over his head.

“And?”

“And everyone dies.” He licks his lips, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Bill says nothing, staring at him.

“Everyone I—” he pauses, he doesn’t want to say it and frighten him away. “Everyone I’m responsible for. They die.”

“Who are you responsible for?”

“Everyone I care about.”

“And how do they die?”

“There’s fire. It’s always a fire.”

“Always?”

Blaise shrugs. “I can change little things. But they’re always dead and there’s always a fire.”

“It’s always the same people?”

Blaise blushes. “More or less.”

Bill steps closer. “And they burn?”

“N—no. They’re usually dead before the fire gets to us. But, I can’t stop it. They’re gone before I get there.”

“Where?”

But Blaise shakes his head. “I need to get into the office.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Still catching up. Won’t be long.”

Bill stares at him.

“They’re back tomorrow, you know.”

Bill nods. “It’ll be nice to see Harry, to see them.”

“Things will change.”

Bill exhales and sits next to him, the bed dipping as does so. “Blaise, what’s going on? When we went to bed last night everything was normal. Perfect. And then you woke up screaming, and now you’re dashing off to work, and—”

“I’ll skip work. Let’s go out. You want to eat?”

“I’m not sure avoiding the subject is the best course of action.”

“I’m not avoiding anything, I promise. There’s a great Chinese restaurant I’ve been meaning to take you to. It’s almost dinner. Hungry?”

“No. I’m not—” Bill grumbles as his stomach rumbles audibly, giving him away. “I’ll get my shoes.”

Blaise honestly isn’t sure how to answer these questions, so he’s grateful for the comfortable silence they walk in. The air is warm and sticky, humid, in the late afternoon sun. Bill’s hand snakes it’s way into his as they cross the street to cut through the park, and his heart leaps. He hadn’t even realized he’d felt so disconnected before.

“This won’t change.” Bill squeezes his hand as they walk.

Blaise feels that he’s smiling before he even registers the skipping in his chest. “Good.”

Dinner is quiet and Blaise spends it watching Bill, contemplating, trying to figure out how to reconcile Bill into this life he’s created. A life that really isn’t a life at all. Sobriety requires more awareness than he prefers. Awareness comes with clarity. And clarity sucks. Except for Bill. He wants to be present and aware and clear about everything with Bill.

It feels like hours have passed since he’s spoken, and he’s searching for the right words. The words that put Bill at ease, the words that let his heart beat properly again.

“I’m responsible because I’m expendable.” Blaise hears the words before he realizes he has said them and he drops his fork in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Bill’s own fork hovers an inch from his mouth, frozen.

“I’m sorry.” Blaise’s eyes are wide. “I shouldn’t—I didn’t… that came out wrong.”

“Who the fuck exactly thinks you’re expendable?”

“No. No one. It’s not like that.”

“Theo? Theo thinks you’re expendable? I seriously doubt _that_ Zabini.”

“No. It’s not like Theo—”

“Harry doesn’t think anyone is dispensable.”

“Of course not! Harry—”

“Your mother? Is this one of those shit parent things?”

“Shit parent?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I don’t remember ever saying—”

“Who thinks you're expendable, Blaise?” Bill’s cheeks are flushed and he’s raising his voice as he growls across the table. “It’s certainly not me. Who? Who’s done such a great job fucking with your head that you would even—”

“Me. It’s me, okay? I just realized it a long time ago. In the grand scheme. It was me. I didn’t have anyone. Not love like Harry and Theo. No siblings. No one to… me. Just me.”

“Your mother will throw a right party when you kick off then, yeah?”

“No.” Blaise whispers, staring at the table. “No, she wouldn’t. She’s not your mum. Your family. But, she does love me.”

“I don’t understand what you’re even talking about.” Bill is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he inspects Blaise with a glare.

Blaise’s head is spinning with things he wants to say but cannot. His chest is tight as flashes from his dreams flit before him. His mother’s voice whispers in his ear again. _“_ _I worried then. I cautioned you against it, and you did not listen.”_

“You. I’m talking about you. You’ve changed things. For me.”

Bill’s expression is guarded, cautious as he leans forward.

“It was you this morning. You were there and I hadn’t saved you. I couldn’t. You were already gone.”

“It’s a dream, Blaise.”

“It’s always the same dream. I spend my days and nights fighting against it. I’ve spent the majority of my life drowning it out in every way possible, and I’ve made so many mistakes, Bill. And the closer it gets, the clearer it is. The details. Who. Where. And it was clearest this time. And you were there.” He takes a shaky breath, staring at the table, over his shoulder, everywhere except Bill.

“Everything changed in the last month, Bill. It’s like everything makes sense and I can’t lose you, not when I’ve just found you. Not when it all makes sense now. But there’s so much I’ve messed up. And I’m trying to straighten it all out before everyone else pays the price, but I—”

“I love you, too.”

Blaise stops speaking immediately. The air is still and the sounds of other patrons fade away as he freezes, words dying on his tongue.

“It doesn’t matter. The mistakes. Whatever it is. We can figure it out together.” Bill is holding his hand on the table, their fingers intertwined. He’s tracing shapes on the back of his hand, and Blaise is waiting for his brain to catch up with them.

“You—” he swallows. “You wanna, you wanna get out of here?”

Bill laughs, shaking his head as Blaise tosses a handful of coins into the table. He takes his hand as they walk back down the streets and through the park. Blaise is stunned. He loves him, too. How could he? How could anyone?

They approach the street corner and Bill lifts Blaise’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as the street lights flicker on above them. He’d been terrified to say anything. Renata had called it more then a week ago, but he’d been too afraid that Bill didn’t feel the same way.

He doesn’t speak again for hours, until they’re laying in bed again, a sheet wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve always been attracted to the strong, silent type, but…” Bill murmurs with a chuckle against his chest.

Blaise is staring at the ceiling, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, his heart in his throat, when he speaks. “I love you.”

Bill sits up, looking at him now.

“I think I’ve loved you since, since that first night.”

Bill is smiling and it emboldens him to continue. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want you to leave. I love you. And I’ve never felt so whole, so complete before. I—”

But Bill is kissing him now, and words are drowned in moans and hands are urgent and mouths are desperate. Blaise wants to do this forever.

_“The stakes are more precarious than you imagine. Your hold is fragile at best.”_ His mother’s voice wafts through the back of his mind. She’s wrong. He’ll fix it and he’ll keep them all safe. Or he’ll die trying.

 

                                                                                                 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bill is content. Soft sunlight breaking through the window awakens him slowly and he finds himself curled into Blaise and smiling again. He smiles a lot lately, he realizes as Blaise shifts closer, throwing a leg over him protectively. The sensation accompanying any contact with him has grown familiar now; of butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart skips a beat.

He loves him. Bill loves him, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt so...

There are many words flitting through his mind as he lays there, watching Blaise sleep, the in and out of his breathing providing a steady rhythm.

_In._

Content, for sure.

_Out._

Fulfilled.

_In._

Happy.

_Out._

Complete.

Bill pauses, toying with this word. Complete. He’s not sure that he’s ever felt such a sense of completion before, but he is certain he never wants to lose it.

_“I love you.”_ Blaise’s voice repeats in his head and Bill feels like an idiot smiling into the sheets.

Blaise stirs beside him and he shifts, propping a hand beneath his chin and rolling onto his elbow to watch him. He’s beautiful, Bill thinks as his eyes flicker open.

“You’re staring again, Weasley.”

“Can’t help it.”

“A picture would last longer.”

“They move too much.” Bill laughs as Blaise rolls over to kiss him.

“Good morning.”

_Fireworks._

“Food.” Blaise grumbles against his mouth and Bill laughs.

“Shower.” He counters and feels Blaise pull him closer in response. He gets lost so easily in him. The touch and taste of him is staggering, and if he weren’t already laying down, he’d have fallen.

Their mouths and hands are needy. It’s been three and a half weeks and it still feels like the first night, the first time. Bill keeps imagining it will fade… but it hasn’t.

There’s a tapping at the glass and Bill glances over to see an owl sitting there impatiently. Too late for the paper.

Tap. Tap. Tap.  

Blaise groans and runs a hand across his face.

“Expecting someone?” Bill inquires, pulling away.

Rolling his eyes, Blaise scoffs. “Always expecting. It’s always one of them.”

Bill looks at the owl again. “If I’m guessing, I give up. One of your many suitors?” He feels a knot in his stomach and attempts to squash it.

“Told you, Weasley. No suitors. Just passing time until I found you.”

Bill stares at him blandly.

“Easy, Weasley. It’s my mum. Again.”

Bill opens his mouth to respond, but stops at Blaise’s laughter.

“You’re a git.”

“Truth, Bill. I haven’t told you a lie yet, and I won’t.”

“I like a policy of honesty.”

“I don’t have much practice here, but I think I’ve heard it’s a good foundation for a successful relationship.” Blaise is smirking again.

“That’s the second time you’ve used that word now.” Bill lowers his chin, his tongue tracing the outline of Blaise’s ear in the way he has discovered makes his toes curl. He relishes in the way Blaise shivers beneath him.

“And I love you.” Blaise chuckles. “Does it bother you?” He whispers, his hands tangling in Bill’s hair.

“The only thing that bothers me is—” but he stops short as they hear a crash in the living room.

Bill is fast. He’s a curse breaker. He’s been in the field for years. He has fought battles and come out the other side of a war. Which is why he’s doubly surprised when he finds himself pressed against the bed and suddenly alone faster than he can even react. He blinks and Blaise is gone, wand raised and out the bedroom door.

There is a loud bang in the living room and he scrambles to his feet, wand raised and the top sheet wrapped tightly around him. He hears yelling now as he races to the door, only to find Theo and Blaise flat on their backs, Harry standing between the both of them, and smoke flooding the room.

Harry spins, his wand pointing at Bill who drops his wand, hands raised in surrender.

“Geezus, Harry! It’s me!”

Harry lowers his wand. He is pale and shaking as he reaches down to help Theo off the floor. His chest is heaving as he wraps an arm around Theo, kissing the side of his head.

“What. the. actual. fuck. Potter!” Blaise stands to his feet as he glares down at Theo and Harry and crosses to Bill.

“Are you always naked, Zabini?” Harry finally snaps.

“In the comfort of my own home when I’m alone?”

“Alone?” Theo finally speaks up in disbelief.

Bill steps forward, wrapping his hand around Theo’s. “That’s another discussion. Harry, what the hell is going on?”

Harry pauses for a moment. “Why don’t you two get dressed.”

Bill opens his mouth to respond, but Blaise takes his hand and pulls him into the bedroom.

Once the door closes, Bill rounds on Blaise. “What? We’re just going to—”

“Just get dressed, Bill.” There’s an edge to his voice that Bill has never heard before, and he nods, slowly pulling on his trousers and slipping a shirt over his head.

“I’ve never seen Theo like this.” Blaise whispers as he laces his trainers. “Nor Harry. Something’s up.”

Bill inclines his head gently, his mind racing as he crosses to Blaise. “Do you want me to leave?”

Blaise’s head snaps up as he meets Bill’s eyes, and he feels his heart skip again. Blaise takes his hand, kissing his knuckles, and it’s his turn to shiver. “Never.”

They walk through the door together again to find Harry and Theo sitting on the sofa, their foreheads together.

Bill and Blaise separate, taking the only two chairs left in the room. Bill feels cold and alone, the tension in the room settling upon his shoulders.

“So, how was your honeymoon?” Blaise is first to break the silence

“Brilliant.” Theo’s voice is dark as he stares at the fireplace.

“I presume you didn’t come all this way back from a three week holiday to attack me in my home this morning without reason?”

Theo continues to glower at the ground as Harry runs a hand along his thigh.

“We got home early this morning, Blaise.”

“Flattered to be the first stop.”

Bill wants to speak, but he’s confused and once again feels as if Blaise and Theo are having a conversation he’s not privy to.

“Enough.” Theo’s voice cracks as he speaks and Bill sees Blaise stiffen.

“There was a note. The club. The card. It...” Theo’s eyes are watering and he swipes at them furiously.

Blaise is on his feet. “Incendio?”

Harry nods, drawing Theo closer.

“Hundreds of them scattered about the house. Cards littering the floor. Piles of ashes. Some half charred. We panicked to think Bill was there, but he wasn’t. So I checked on Incendio first, but everything was fine. When I returned to the house, Harry had inspected them closer. Each of the cards had the same message written on it in the tiniest of handwriting.”

Harry pulls one out of his pocket, handing it to Blaise who reads it stone-faced before dropping to his knees in front of Theo. “I’m alright, Mate.”

Bill stands, unsure of what to do as he stares back and forth from Harry and Blaise to Theo. Blaise stands and passes him the card before sitting next to Theodore, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

_Blessings on your marital bliss. Your time has passed. Now watch us set your namesake ablaze._

“Isn’t this like the card you gave me for Incendio?” Bill is desperately trying to catch up.

Harry nods.

“Well, what's all this mean? Your namesake?” Bill tilts the card to and fro as if expecting an answer.

“It’s me.” Blaise whispers. “It’s— Theo named it after me.”

Bill stops suddenly, his blood running cold as he catches up. “You thought someone was… that Blaise was…”

Theo is angry now. Bill doesn’t know him half as well as the other two men in the room, but he can feel the ire rolling off of him in dark and heavy waves.

“I’ll find them.” Theo growls as Bill steps protectively toward Blaise’s side.

“Oi, married to an auror.” Harry protests.

“Fine, then beat me to it.”

“You don’t even know what they want.” Blaise argues.  

“They were in my house.”

“Our house.” Harry counters.

Bill’s head is spinning as he tries to make sense of it all. “But, that’s impossible. No one can get through your wards unless you’ve approved them. Or they’re with someone you approve…”

“That leaves a Weasley or me.” Blaise is murmuring as he rises once more to his feet. “Impossible.”

“And to what end? I can see someone going after Harry. But Theo’s bar or Blaise? Why?”

Blaise and Theo exchange a fleeting and dark look that Bill nearly misses, but no one speaks.

“I’m going to head in to the ministry.” Harry murmurs, taking the card back from Bill and returning it to Theo.

“Honeymoon is over.” Theo says lazily, simultaneously slipping the card into his pocket and himself back into the detached and disdainful manner he and Blaise seem to have perfected.

Harry kisses him quickly before walking toward the floo. “Believe it or not, I’m actually rather good at my job, love. I’ll handle it.”

With a flash he is gone.

“He really thinks you two believe him to be so unimpressive.” Bill is shaking his head as he crosses to sit next to Theo, staring up at Blaise who is pacing in front of the mantle.

They both laugh, and it’s the first normal sound Bill has heard since Theo and Harry arrived. “We can’t all be blatant members of the Harry Potter fan club, Weasley.”

“Can’t have him thinking we’re all just _so_ impressed by him.”

“Dark Lord Destroyer usually garners at least a bit of appreciation.” Bill is bemused.

“I maintain: Potter was in the right place at the right time”. Theo is back to his feet, he is toying with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yes, nothing impressive about that.” Blaise joins him.

Rolling his eyes, Bill shakes his head. “Nothing like a marriage based on mutual respect.”

“Watch it, Weasley. I respect the hell out of that man.”

Bill surrenders. “I don’t pretend to understand this game, but have at it. In the meantime, if we’re finished, I’d like a shower.”

Blaise nods, inclining his head toward the bedroom. “I’ll just say bye to Theo.”

Bill’s heart is still racing as he enters the shower. He has nearly a decade on the other men, and he wonders briefly if it will become an issue for Blaise. Or is already one.

His mind is racing as the hot water beats down on him. There was too much information, too many questions swirling through his mind.

Why would anyone want to hurt Blaise? Or, Theo’s bar for that matter?

The tension in his shoulders begins to dissipate as he makes the water hotter, reveling in the heat and steam.

Who could have gained access to Harry and Theo’s house? Also, and while probably less important, a question nonetheless: Theo named his bar of mystery and intrigue after Blaise?

Bill drops his chin to his chest, rolling his head from side to side to loosen the knots, and adjusts the pressure of the water.

In hindsight, it seemed rather obvious for anyone who knew them both. He jumps as the door opens and strong hands wrap around his chest and stomach.

“Hullo.”

“Sorry to leave you waiting.” Blaise apologizes, and there is a sincerity in his voice Bill relishes in.

“Worth waiting for.” He mumbles, lips on soft flesh as he turns and dips his head to Blaise’s neck.

And then he hears that sound he’s come to love. It is deep and dark, a growl that rumbles its way up and out and sounds as if it begins in Blaise’s toes. He suddenly finds himself pressed against the cold tile of the shower wall and smiles, lost in the feel of him.

His questions will wait. He never wants this to end.


End file.
